While All The Vultures Feed
by RationalParanoia
Summary: AU: A story about homicide detectives, grouchy tattoo artists, intrusive co-workers, and really bad coffee. Rating subject to change.
1. Bad Coffee and Ian Dietrich

**While All The Vultures Feed** – A LevixPetra fanfiction  
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin or any of it's characters/themes!  
Please see end for notes :)

* * *

Chapter1: Bad Coffee and Ian Deitrich.

Petra, in her 26 years of life, had never tasted coffee as bad as the one she was currently nursing. The heat of the bitter drink seeped into her fingers from its Styrofoam confines, but did little to fight back the chilly air of the third storey apartment she was currently standing in. It was 5:13 on a Wednesday morning, the first garish shards of light were starting to filter through the cramped city streets of Sina, and Petra was in the middle of a busy crime scene.

She had always found the hushed murmurs of the crime scene processors oddly calming. It was soothing in a morbid way. The sharp clicks of camera shutters, the crinkled rustling of plastic evidence bags: it was all familiar and comforting despite the tragic circumstances. Even the rigid posture of the victim, sprawled out across his sofa with vacant eyes and a bruised, broken neck, was reassuring.

Petra took a sip of her coffee and grimaced at the burnt flavour that no amount of sugar or milk could cover. This would be the last time she asked Auruo to get coffee. Admittedly, the man had done his best in the short amount of time since he, Petra, and the rest of the team had arrived on the scene, (4:30 in the morning, thank you very much) and the only place that was nearby and open had been a seedy looking diner. Still, shit coffee was shit coffee and it did little to stem the haggard, sleepy creasing of Petra's eyes.

She really wanted to go back to bed. Three hours of sleep did not help with one's investigating skills. Hell, she'd only just closed her last case some seven hours ago and there was already another one waiting for her. She wanted to go back to her apartment. She wanted to close her curtains and curl up in her feather doona, quiet and warm, and drift into a dreamless slumber that only the mentally and physically exhausted knew of. Alas, murder stopped for no one; especially not for sleep deprived homicide detectives.

Blinking owlishly, she surveyed the scene before her, trying to take in the details. From where she was standing it looked like a home invasion gone wrong. The apartment was a mess: a broken chair, an overturned table, strewn letters and paperwork, a shattered vase. All signs of a struggle. The victim – a Mr Ian Dietrich, 23 years old – had a busted lip which had dribbled blood onto the plaid sofa and cream carpet, and deep scratches on his forearms. He had fought back, Petra mused. She took a closer look at the body, peering over Hanji's shoulder, mindful not to get too close to the M.E as she worked.

"What do you know so far?" Petra asked, watching Hanji pluck tissue samples with practiced ease from beneath the victim's fingernails.

"Well, our dead friend here doesn't have to worry about that liver condition he has anymore," Hanji chirped happily, filing away the sample into a slim plastic vile and labelling it accordingly. "See how discoloured his sclera and skin are. He had some serious jaundice happening, though I can't be sure if this is a new fashion statement that I am unaware of. You know how society is these days: starve yourself to be pretty, use implants, inject botulism into your face, drink your own urine."

"I'm pretty sure jaundice is not one of the new fashions of the year, Hanji," Petra snorted. She didn't object when the other woman swooped upon her coffee, chugging it like a relapsed alcoholic on Oktoberfest. "Do you have a C.O.D?"

"Yep. Dear Sina, this coffee is fucking terrible. Ian here has a lovely snapped neck. Seriously, I've never seen such a clean break before in my life, and I haven't even done x-rays yet. And before you ask, T.O.D is roughly 2:30 this morning judging by temperature and lividity," Hanji explained, nose crinkling in thought. "I'll have more information once I get stiff and pretty here into the lab," she added. Petra nodded, and stepped away to let Hanji continue her evaluation of the body, letting the other woman keep the disastrous coffee. This was good. They had a rough time of death and a cause of death. They could start building a timeline once they got back to the precinct.

She turned, stepping around the broken glass, searching for her colleagues. A fruitless search within the apartment led her outside, where she found Erd and Gunter loitering in the hallway. Erd had his pager held up so close to his face he was almost cross-eyed, furiously typing like an infuriated teenager who had just been dumped via a text. Petra glanced at Gunter questioningly. The other man shrugged.

"He forgot his glasses," was all he said.

"Quiet, Gunther. I'm trying to concentrate," Erd retorted, eyes squinting to slits, face lit up pale and blue by the pager's screen. "The wife will have my hide if I don't fix this."

"Erd, man, you're so whipped," Petra sniggered. "What did you do to piss her off?"

"I may have inadvertently called her mother a cow last night. To be fair, the woman was mooing on the sofa after her fifth brandy. How was I supposed to know they'd both take offence to it?"

"Idiot," Gunter and Petra both sighed. Erd made a strange little choking noise and went back to his pager.

"Did you guys find anything?" Petra asked.

"Well, Mr Dietrich wasn't robbed – found his wallet with cash and cards still on the kitchen counter, as well as a receipt for a restaurant dated last night. His neighbour saw him come home at 11pm, and didn't hear anything strange until 3am this morning. Said the crashing woke her up. She's the one who called us in," Gunter recounted. Erd grunted in agreement, finally lowering his pager.

"Guy worked as a security officer for MP industries. No criminal record – he hasn't even had a parking ticket," he said, scratching his blond stubbled chin thoughtfully.

"How is that even possible?" Petra gawked.

"Probably because he didn't own a car," Auruo interjected from behind the three, sliding into the hallway from the apartment doorway. "I just did a perimeter check. No sign of forced entry, but the window by the fire escape was unlocked so maybe our killer got in and out through there."

"Have forensics dust for prints," Erd said. "Hopefully they'll pick something up."

"Already on it. Also, Hanji mentioned she found something in our vic's shirt pocket. Looks like a phone number and address." Erd seemed to mull over the information for a moment, pondering a plan of action.

"Okay. Auruo, you run that number and see what turns up. Petra, I want you to call the restaurant. I want to know who he was meeting last night and what happened. Gunter and I will canvas the area, see if we can't find any more witnesses. We'll meet back at the precinct in an hour's time and go over everything there."

"Understood," Petra chimed. She took one last look at the apartment, buzzing with law enforcement and investigators, before she headed for the elevator. She sighed unhappily. She could already feel the pinching, nerve grating sensation in her temples that signalled frustration. This case was going to suck.

* * *

Twelve hours later and Petra found herself trudging up the front steps of the building that housed her apartment. Erd had insisted she head home for rest after watching her nearly face plant, asleep, into her chicken salad, almost taking her eye out with her fork. She'd insisted she was good to work, but Erd had put his foot down. She was not good to work if she couldn't even hold a fork without nearly causing grievous harm to her own body.

They'd hit a brick wall with the case. They'd discovered the identity of their vic's dinner partner – his fiancée, Rico Brzenska: a calculating woman with a sharp face and shrewd work ethic who had burst into shrill sobbing at the news of Ian's death. Her alibi had checked out, leaving them with no immediate suspects. Forensics on the windowsill and DNA samples from beneath the victim's fingernails wouldn't be back for another several days. Hopefully there would be a match in the system. For now the team would have to wait.

Petra hated waiting. But she hated the exhausted lag of her limbs more. She shuffled inside the apartment complex, heading for the elevator. A hot shower and soft bed awaited her, and she was eager for a respite from the bustle of the city and the chattering of its citizens. She punched the button for the fifth floor, listening to the soft ting of the elevator doors as they began to close.

Before they were suddenly forced open by small hands.

Petra paused as the doors opened to reveal two children; a boy and girl no older than ten years old, wearing the Sina Private Academy uniform. The boy, a green eyed brunet with adorable dimples, smiled cheekily up at her as he entered the elevator, followed by his friend; a girl of Asian origins with ivory skin and a quiet demeanour. She glanced shyly at Petra, hand fisted in the boy's blue school sweater, before she hid her face behind the folds of a large red scarf.

Standing behind them with a disapproving, tired expression on his face, was a man in his late twenties. He was quite short, perhaps only a bit taller than Petra's 158cm. His hair was a ruffled, spiky black mess that Petra had only seen in fashion magazines that left her seething with envy, and it framed a handsome face with a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. A white scarf was tied loosely about his neck. His grey eyes flickered to Petra, as if he was sizing her up, before they moved to the children. He took his place beside them before pressing the button for the fifth floor as well.

Petra eyed the three closely with tired interest. She had never seen them before – she was positive she would have remembered a man with a face like _that_. They were new tenants then, and must have moved in when she was out this morning. The boy was talking animatedly to the man about his day at school and how someone named Sasha had spat bubblegum in his friend's hair. She snickered quietly.

The elevator slowed as it reached the fifth floor, and the doors rumbled open with a ping. The boy was out of the elevator first, dashing down the hallway with the eagerness of a hound chasing a rabbit. The man made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat.

"Oi, brat! Don't run," he snapped gruffly, allowing Petra to exit before him.

"But there's a new episode of Fall of the Titans, Dad!" he called back giddily. Petra heard the man sigh as she unlocked the door to her apartment, noting that the new tenants had taken up residency in the apartment just down the hall from her. She closed it, but not before making eye contact with her new neighbour again. She smiled welcomingly, and he nodded, mouthing a quick apology for the rowdy behaviour.

He was handsome, Petra mused. A single father – because she had made a point of looking for a ring, damn her inquisitive brain – and his two young kids. She made a mental note to introduce herself properly next time they met. She dumped her bag and coat on the kitchen counter, rolling her shoulders and hearing her muscles and bones pop in her neck uncomfortably. Time for a shower. A hot one. She drifted over to the bathroom, ready to relax her overworked and lethargic brain. Twenty minutes later and Petra was wrapped up in her favourite purple pyjamas, flipping through one of her many cheesy romance novels she kept hidden beneath her bed. She was asleep, book forgotten, within five minutes.

* * *

**Hi guys!  
**This is my first time writing fanfiction and I couldn't be happier that it's for Rivetra shippers. I've had this idea in my head for a while since reading some of the fics that the fabulous PensiveBanana has written (thanks for the inspiration, lovely) and also watching four seasons of Castle back to back. SO MUCH WITTY DIALOGUE!  
Comments are greatly appreciated! Also, if you have any ideas that can be included in this fic please let me know!  
Updates will be sporadic (SORRY) since I'm at Uni and assignments are due, but I'll be on holidays soon. Hope you enjoy.

**Written to:**  
_All Signs Point to Lauderdale_ – A Day to Remember  
_Take Back the City_ – Snow Patrol  
_Swing Life Away_ – Rise Against  
_My Happiness_ – Powderfinger  
_Moving to New York_ – The Wombats


	2. The Hard Hitting Questions

**While All The Vultures Feed** – A LevixPetra fanfiction  
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin or any of its characters/themes!  
Please see end for notes :)

* * *

Chapter 2: The Hard Hitting Questions: Did You Get Laid?

Petra woke to the stuttering vibrations of her phone as it skittered across the wooden surface of her bedside table. Her hand groped blindly for the infuriating little device, refusing to open her eyes and check the caller ID... and the time for that matter. Her fingers touched cool plastic, and she snatched the still jittering phone. With practiced motions she blindly answered it.

"_Mmph_, who is it?" she mumbled groggily, tongue dry and thick with sleep.

"_Damn_, girl. You sound more exhausted than you did yesterday... did you get laid?" Hanji's teasingly hopeful, and _loud_, tone cracked from the speakers. Petra scoffed. She and Hanji both knew that her social life was non-existent. She was lucky if she got time to go have a drink with the rest of her team members. Dating was out of the question. In fact, Petra could safely say that the term 'dating' was a cosmic, philosophical theory that had yet to be proven into existence in the lives of law enforcement members. Someday, she mused. Someday it would happen. Just not today it would seem.

"We both know the answer to that question, Hanji," Petra replied with a yawn. "To what do I owe the pleasure of being woken up at," she glanced at her digital watch, "three in the morning?"

"I am so hurt, Petra," Hanji mock sobbed, a heaving ugly sound. "I thought you wanted to know when I finished the initial autopsy." Petra sat bolt upright, ignoring the wave of vertigo that washed over her at her sudden change from horizontal to vertical. She blinked rapidly, willing her dizzy spell to clear so she could focus on what Hanji was saying.

"... had some real fancy ass food in his stomach. Caviar! Can you believe this guy? It's like his stomach turned into a snob," Hanji ranted.

"Um, sure. Did you get any _valuable_ information?"

"Hm? Oh yes. What do you take me for, Petra baby? I'm a professional. Okay, so Dietrich's time of death was in fact 2:28am."

"You can get it that exact?" Petra spluttered.

"No, but his busted pocket watch can," Hanji replied. She must have heard Petra's unimpressed grumble because she cackled. "So about that snapped neck. As I was expecting, it was a beautiful break, location at C3 and C4 vertebrae. Seriously, it's like x-ray porn for anthropologists."

"So we have an accurate T.O.D and C.O.D so far. Anything else?"

"Besides the guy's rich bitch stomach contents, I found trace amounts of nail polish in those scratches along his arms. Fire engine red, baby. Our killer new this season's style."

"So our murderer must be a woman," Petra mused thoughtfully, glancing down at her own nails. Worn and bitten... She wasn't a nail polish girl anyway. She ran a list of suspects through her head, pausing at the neighbour and at Rico. Both had alibis though.

"That, or our killer is a man in touch with his feminine side," Hanji added. Petra hummed in agreement. "I'm still waiting for the lab results on the skin we pulled from our dead buddy's fingernails. Not sure when they'll turn up but I'll call when I get them."

"Thanks, Hanji." It was silent on the other end of the phone for a long moment. "Hanji?"

"... did you really get laid?"

Petra hung up. She was too sleepy to be fully amused with Hanji's probing, not at three in the morning anyway. At least the woman, as diabolical and manic as she was, delivered excellent results. The precinct wouldn't have been able to solve the majority of their cases without Hanji's divine wisdom of all things medical and gory. Petra placed her phone back on her bedside table, mulling the new information over in her head. This was looking more and more like a premeditated murder. The question was why? Why would someone kill Ian Dietrich? He was an unassuming man who worked as a security officer, and spent time with his fiancée at lavish restaurants. He owned a freaking goldfish named Rudy for god's sake.

Petra groaned. Thinking at this time of the morning was not going to help her catch a break in this case. She lay back down, chewing her bottom lip absently as she contemplated her options. The phone call with Hanji had completely jarred her from sleep, and she doubted she would be able to go back to the blissful, dreamless state she had been in prior. She could catch a few more Z's before she needed to get up, or she could make coffee and try and piece together the information she had.

She was making coffee.

* * *

Five minutes later and Petra was pacing furiously in her apartment, a fresh mug of steaming black coffee clasped in her thin fingers. The coffee was helping her brain kick into gear, but unfortunately her brain didn't want to focus on the details of the case. Instead, Petra was busily internalising a list of all the things that needed to be fixed in her apartment. The air conditioner was busted, her vanity sink had a dripping tap, and she could really do with a new set of cutlery.

She let out a feral little snarl of irritation. This was doing her no good. She needed air. She stomped over to her bedroom and whipped open the curtains hiding her dusty window. She fumbled with the locked latches for a moment, and let out a satisfied huff of air when they came undone. She slid the window open, jarring it once on the rickety frame, and ducked outside. The soft, droning noise of early morning taxi cabs and late-night shift workers hurrying home met her ears as she plopped down onto the edge of her windowsill.

This was one of Petra's favourite places, sitting on the windowsill of her apartment just above the fire escape platform. It was low enough that the altitude didn't make her ill and high enough for a sense of privacy. From here she could watch the city move and breathe like the oily, depraved creature that it was. Petra knew that Sina was a less than desirable place to settle in. It was ripe with crime; the corruption spread like a water stain through silk. No one was safe from its touch. Not even law enforcement. At least the crime rate kept her in a steady job. She took a sip from her drink and sighed, watching the curls of steam filter in the dark sky ahead of her.

She nearly dropped her coffee when she spotted the still, dark figure sitting on the opposite windowsill. Petra's fingers reflexively gripped the handle of her cup until she felt as if her bones might split through her skin. She had not been expecting anyone else to be up at this hour, let alone sitting across from her. It took a short moment for her eyes to register with her brain that it was not a shadowy monster come to attack her. It was her new neighbour, smoking a cigarette. He seemed to sense that he had startled her. A small smile, barely more than a crease at his eyes, was on his face.

"Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me," Petra breathed, slapping a hand to her still hammering heart.

"Sorry," he murmured quietly. He shifted, moving across his windowsill so he was framed in the light that filtered through his curtains, smoke curling around his face. "I didn't expect anyone else to be up at this time."

"Same," Petra agreed. She pulled her knees up to her chest as a chilled breeze swept across her face, ruffling her mussed hair and pyjamas. It was colder up here than she had originally thought, and she contemplated getting her dressing gown from inside. She looked over at her windowsill mate, and gawked when she saw he was wearing sweats and a tank top, exposing intricate tattoos that ran up his arms and across his collarbones. She cursed at the darkness, unable to see the designs clearly.

Her neighbour must have felt her gaze because he fixed her with a sharp stare, breathing smoke out his nose like an irritated bull. Petra turned beet red, embarrassed at having been caught staring. She took a sip of her coffee, trying to appear nonchalant and probably failing terribly. A tense silence fell between them, one that left Petra fidgety. It had been a while since she'd actually had a conversation with a complete stranger that didn't involve her job. How was this meant to go again? Introduce yourself, and then find something in common. She decided to wing it.

"I'm Petra Ral. It's a pleasure to meet you," she said.

"Levi Ţepeş. Likewise," he responded after a moment. Petra smiled. She now had a name to go with his handsome face. Ţepeş. An interesting last name, she noted.

"Are you new to Sina?"

"Nah. I've been in this shithole for a few years now."

"Hey, Sina isn't that bad of a place," Petra defended.

"Have you been down to Shiganshina?" He took a long drag on his cigarette.

"I'm a homicide detective," Petra said flatly. "I know all about Sina's dark little places." That seemed to throw him for a moment. He seemed genuinely surprised at her line of work. "What do you do?"

"Artist," he responded flatly. Petra nodded, frowning a little at the sudden drop in the conversation. And here she thought she'd been doing so well. Her internal struggle was interrupted by a small voice.

"Smoking is bad for you, Father."

"Yeah, I know. Don't nag, Mikasa," Levi muttered, though there was no heat to his words. He dutifully crushed the burning end of the cigarette in an ashtray beside his thigh. He shifted on the windowsill again, allowing the small girl Petra had seen in the elevator only yesterday to poke her head out the window. She was dressed in yellow pyjamas, face partially hidden by her red scarf. She was clutching a hairbrush in her hands. "Can't sleep either?" Levi murmured.

"Will you braid my hair?" Mikasa asked, ignoring the question. Petra was slightly disturbed by the lack of inflection in the girl's tone. She was completely deadpan. She didn't even sound tired. Levi didn't answer, but he reached down and tugged Mikasa through the window and deposited her on his lap. The girl sat their contentedly, allowing the brush to be plucked from her hands.

"That's Petra Ral, our neighbour," Levi said, combing fingers through black locks. Petra was overcome with a tinge of jealousy as she watched Levi comb his daughter's silky hair. She pinched the ends of her own strawberry blonde locks between her fingers, noting the split ends. She'd never have hair like the little girl. "She's a police detective," Levi added.

"Good morning, Miss Petra," Mikasa said gently, voice like a moth's wings.

"Good morning, Mikasa," Petra replied, albeit timidly. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something a little unnerving about the girl. At first glance, Mikasa reminded Petra of a doe in a meadow with her quite nature and gentle face. But the girl was so calm, almost like a spooked wild animal that had frozen in fear beneath the sight of a hunter's rifle. She couldn't tell if Mikasa would attack, flee or surrender. She was in a permanent state of hyper vigilance and showing signs of PTSD.

Petra felt her eyes wander to Levi again, watching him smooth tangles from the little girl's hair. He was like a preening mother hen, she thought wryly. She wondered about them. She wanted to know their story. Where had they come from? Where were Mikasa's and the little boy's mother? What kind of family were they? What had happened to cause Mikasa to act like she did? They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes longer: Levi twining Mikasa's hair into a perfect braid and Petra sipping her coffee, pondering her unspoken questions.

"Come. We both need sleep," Levi said once he had finished. Mikasa did as she was told without fussing, reaching up to touch her newly styled hair. She grabbed Levi's hand and gave it a tight squeeze before she clambered back inside the apartment with a graceful movement that Petra had never seen a child so young possess.

"See you round, Ral," Levi said before he too disappeared inside his apartment, leaving Petra to her thoughts.

* * *

Well... I was expecting this chapter to go in a decidedly more humorous route, but it ended up being a giant bucket of feels. I really wanted to explore Mikasa's relationship with Levi in this story. I have this headcanon that Mikasa and her mother used to braid and style their hair together when she was alive. Getting someone to help her brush and style her hair gives Mikasa a sense of peace and normalcy because it is an act associated with a happy memory. I see this scene with Levi braiding Mikasa's hair as him helping her leech away the bad memories she has of the murders without verbally referring to it, as I view Mikasa as a person who prefers actions over words.  
**Note:** I chose to give Levi the last name Ţepeş in honour of one of my favourite historical figures, Vlad the Impaler. The bloody history surrounding the name fits with the direction in which I want to take Levi's past in this piece. Apparently Ţepeş is pronounced "too-pesh".

THANKS TO EVERYONE THAT REVIEWED/FOLLOWED/FAVOURITED! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME!

This going to likely be the last update for next few days because I am backed up with assignments. Sorry :/

**Written to:  
**_Never Gonna Leave This Bed (acoustic)_ – Maroon 5  
_Orestes_ – A Perfect Circle  
_Name_ – Goo Goo Dolls  
_Breath_ _Me_ – Sia  
_Roslyn_ – Bon Iver and St. Vincent


	3. One-sided Interrogations

**While All The Vultures Feed** – A LevixPetra fanfiction  
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin or any of its characters/themes!  
Please see end for notes :)

* * *

Chapter 3: One-sided Interrogations

There was a problem with the timeline. Petra stared at the evidence board with a heated glare, grilling the inanimate object like she would with a guilty suspect in interrogation. The board was proving difficult to break and unwilling to give away the needed information. Her frown deepened, and she dropped her chin into her laced fingers in contemplation. It was now midday on Thursday, and the case had once again ground to a halt. All around her, the precinct was a flurry of activity: officers leading the arrested in and out of cells and rooms, assistants dishing out a variety of papers and forms, and the quick swipes of hands as fellow detectives answered incessantly ringing phones. It was a cacophony of noise and movement.

It was driving Petra up the wall. She was stuck with an incomplete evidence board that was taunting her with its hidden secrets, and a noise level that seemed to increase by the minute. Auruo was sitting opposite her, smashing away at his laptop and oblivious to his colleague's plight. After Petra had been dismissed early yesterday for her near grievous bodily harm with a salad fork, Auruo had made a small amount of progress with the phone number and address that had been found in Ian Dietrich's pocket. The address was that of a set of offices in the suburb of Trost where Garrison Incorporated, one of the biggest manufacturing and building companies in the world, held their main agency. The number was to a Mr. Dot Pixis, the founder and owner of the business. Auruo had arranged a meeting with the man for later today. Erd and Gunther had gone back to Dietrich's apartment to rework the crime scene to try and get an idea of the events that had led to the man's death, leaving Petra to mull over the current evidence they had acquired.

She, admittedly, hadn't gotten very far with it. Dietrich had died at exactly 2:28am yesterday morning on Wednesday. The neighbour had notified the police of a possible break in at 3:00am that same morning. Dietrich's body had been discovered soon after the call at 3:22am. Petra and the rest of her team members had been called about the body at 4:00am and had arrived on the scene at 4:30am. Hazel eyes flickered over to the earlier entries on the timeline. Dietrich had come home at 11pm after dining at The Rose with his fiancée Rico at 7:30pm. Rico and the owner of the restaurant had confirmed that the two lovebirds had left at 8:30pm. They'd stayed out for coffee until 9am and then gone their separate ways. So what had taken Ian so long to get back to his apartment at 11pm?

Petra rummaged around her frustratingly messy desk and discovered a pen and notepad. She jotted down the small detail she had discovered in a neat scrawl and then stuck it on the board, adding to the many other unanswered questions. She wondered if Rico would know why Ian had taken so long to get back to his apartment. Maybe the woman was lying about the time she had parted ways with her fiancé. It certainly seemed plausible. Rico had been understandably distraught over the news of Ian's death, but she had been quite fidgety and distracted during the interview that verified her whereabouts and alibi. Perhaps it was time to bring Rico Brzenska in for questioning again.

She quickly picked up her phone and made a phone call to Rico's place of work. The woman was an accountant for Garrison Incorporated. After a two minute wait the phone finally was picked up by a woman named Anka Rheinberger who informed her that Rico was out on business and would be back later that night. Petra made another note of this and then had Anka schedule Rico in for an appointment down at the precinct. She hung up with a little more force than was necessary, leaving Petra's ear ringing with the clack of the receiver hitting hard plastic. Rude. She glanced at the clock on her computer screen and realised that it was nearly two o'clock. She stood from her chair and informed Auruo that she was going for lunch. Auruo didn't acknowledge her, simply continued to smash away at his keyboard with tense concentration. Petra huffed with annoyance and left. It was time for coffee.

* * *

"How are you going with that Dietrich case?" Nanaba asked, plucking happily at her egg and bacon roll. Petra made an unintelligible noise through her mouthful of turkey sandwich. "That bad, huh?" The two women were currently sitting in the lunchroom of the precinct, hurriedly choking down unsatisfying lunches so they could get back to their respective cases.

"Ugh. This case sucks," Petra finally growled after swallowing her food. She took a gulp of coffee and carelessly wiped her mouth on the back of her suit sleeve. "I mean, it's only been two days but we'd have already built a solid timeline and have had at least a suspect in for questioning. We have neither of those things and it's driving me mental." Nanaba nodded sympathetically.

"I've been working on a drug bust. Mike's sniffed out most of the guys involved, but we can't find the lab location. He's been strangely moody about it," the blonde woman said.

"I need something to break this case wide open," Petra ground out, chewing her lip for a moment. She swiped at her coffee again and took a long swig.

"What you _need_," Hanji said as she slid into a vacant plastic seat beside Petra, "is a night of depraved, steamy debauchery with a hunky man. You're so tense I could cut bodies open with your shoulders." Petra nearly choked on her coffee. She spluttered, forcing the liquid down her throat with a gurgling noise, her face turning a brilliant cherry red.

"_Hanji, what the hell_?" Petra hissed hoarsely. Hanji beamed, utterly delighted with the other woman's reaction.

"I second this," Nanaba added amusedly. Petra whipped about, hair slapping her in the face. Even Nanaba, straight laced-by the book-_Nanaba_, was ganging up on her? Where on earth was this teasing streak coming from?

"Seriously, when was the last time you got the big D anyway?" Hanji continued. A yelp of mortification left Petra's lips and she hurriedly slapped a hand over the eccentric M.E's mouth.

"Stop it! Stop it right now!" she squeaked, eyes darting about the lunchroom. Hopefully no one had overheard their highly inappropriate conversation topic. "Do you have those DNA tests back yet?" she asked quickly. Hanji shook her head.

"Won't get the results back until sometime Friday, but don't you try and change the subject, Petra baby," she said wickedly.

"Exactly. You're not getting out of this that easy, little miss," Nanaba added. The two leaned forward conspiratorially, caging Petra in by their intuitive stares.

"What about you and Mike?" Petra shot back. Nanaba's cheeks flushed pink, and she had the gall to appear sheepish.

"We're not talking about Nanaba banging our lovely, scruffy Mike. By the way, you promised details and haven't said a word yet," Hanji interrupted, eyeing Nanaba disappointedly. "We're talking about you and your nonexistent social, dating and sex life, Petra. You seen anyone lately that's tickled your fancy?" she probed.

"N-no!" Petra stuttered, mind instantly snapping to this morning and the almost intimate talk she'd had with her new neighbour, Levi, on the windowsill.

"Oho, I think you're lying," Nanaba and Hanji both sang. It was like they had an image feed straight to Petra's brain. She slumped in her seat and buried her burning face in her hands.

"Can we not talk about this here?" she pleaded, shooting a furtive look about the lunchroom.

"Ah, so you are willing to talk about this," Nanaba sniggered happily. Petra shot her a filthy, betrayed look. "Why don't we have a girl's night this Friday?"

"That, my lovely Nanaba, is a most excellent and stupendous idea," Hanji crowed. "Clear your schedules for we are going to hit the town like a body from a twenty storey building."

"Fatally?"

"Nope. Messily."

* * *

**CHAPTER UPDATE CAME EARLY MY LOVELIES!  
**More internally-musing Petra and sassy Hanji (she's my new favourite thing). Also, My Tumblr followers just jumped up by 15 or something ridiculous. I must be doing something right for once in my life. This pleases me along with all your sweet messages. I've been watching the Crime channel on Foxtel whilst house sitting. It's given me some very interesting ideas. You should be VERY worried/excited.

**Written to:  
**_Bondi Rescue_ – stupid sexy hot Australian lifeguards that can do no wrong  
_River Monsters_ – scary big ass fishes that like to nom on your toes and other body parts  
_Teen_ _Wolf_ – Stiles and Lydia are the King and Queen of sass and perfection  
_Python_ _Hunters_ – I love reptiles. Just thought you should know.


	4. Good Cop Bad Cop

**While All The Vultures Feed** – A LevixPetra fanfiction  
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin or any of its characters/themes!  
Please see end for notes :)

* * *

Chapter 4: Good Cop/Bad Cop

The following Friday morning, after a strangely peaceful night's sleep, found Petra sitting across from an irritated and mildly confused Rico Brzenska. The woman had been hauled away from her busy accounting job at Garrison Inc. for questioning and had made it clear she was not happy about it. Erd stood in the corner of the interrogation room that they were currently using. He was an intimidating, looming presence, generating an uneasy feeling in the room that Petra fully intended to capitalise on. They were going to play a version of good cop/bad cop, as cliché as it sounded. Petra made a show of shuffling the files she had in front of her, watching Rico's shoulders stiffen at the sound. The platinum blonde sniffed snootily and pushed her designer glasses up the bridge of her pale nose.

"Are you going to tell me why you dragged me away from my job without probable cause?" she asked, glancing warily at Erd as she spoke. Petra chose that moment to slap the files she had been shuffling down onto the table with a sharp crack. Erd and Rico both jumped in surprise.

"You lied to us, Miss Brzenska," Petra snapped tartly. Rico bristled at the statement.

"Excuse me?" the other woman's nostrils flared with anger.

"You lied to us about the time you parted ways with Ian. You said you left after coffee at 9pm that night. Why did it take Ian two hours to get back to his apartment that was only twenty minutes away?" Petra demanded. She knew she was simply fishing. It was possible that Rico had no idea why it had taken Ian so long to get back to his own apartment. But ever since she had met the other woman she'd had a strong feeling that she was hiding something. Petra always trusted her gut instincts. It's what made her such a good detective.

"The longer you stay silent the guiltier you look, Miss Brzenska," Erd said gently, though still maintaining his brooding position. Rico glared at him and crossed her arms across her chest, tapping her red painted fingernails agitatedly. Petra blinked, zeroing in on the colour. A sudden realization burst in her mind; something Hanji had discovered during her autopsy of Deitrich's body, in the scratches along his arms.

"We found nail polish in the scratches on Ian's body, along his forearms," Petra said. She flipped the file open and pushed a photograph that had been taken for evidence of said scratches. Rico visibly paled. Whether it was from guilt or the sight of her dead fiancé was unknown still. "Do you know what colour the nail polish was?" Petra continued. Rico was still staring at the photograph.

"Miss Brzenska?" Erd asked, wondering if the blonde had gone into shock.

"It was red!" Petra sneered, startling Rico from her thoughts. "The same colour as what you're wearing. What do you think is going to happen when we compare the sample from Ian's skin to the polish you've got on now?"

"I-I don-"

"What really happened after you guys had coffee? Did you have fight?" Petra drilled.

"Tell us, Miss Brzenska. It's in your best interests to do so," Erd said.

"If that nail polish comes up as a match, you'll be charged for murder. Do you understand? This will go to trail and I'll make sure those charges stick. You'll go away for a very long time and rot there!"

"I never hurt, Ian," Rico finally cried, tears beading in the corners of her distressed, glassy eyes. "I loved him. I wanted to marry him."

"Then why did you attack him?" Erd asked.

"I didn't do it intentionally. We..." and Rico trailed off then. Petra frowned, becoming frustrated, until she saw the bright red that was creeping up the woman's neck and ears. Oh. _Oh!_ Erd seemed to have picked up on it as well, because he cleared his throat.

"I'll go get some water," he said, briskly departing the interrogation room. Rico's face flamed impossibly redder. The door closed with a soft click, leaving Petra and Rico alone.

"I... this is... I have never been so _mortified_ in my entire life," Rico whispered, covering her flushed face with her hands. Petra's mouth twitched into an empathetic smile. She knew exactly how Rico was feeling, having endured it only yesterday.

"What happened after coffee?"

"We went back to my apartment and... spent some _time_ together. It's quite difficult to meet each other with our conflicting schedules. Ian stayed until about 10:30pm before he left," Rico explained quietly. Petra nodded, jotting the details and time down on the edge of the manila file on the table. "I... I really miss him," Rico murmured, her breath hitching in her throat. Petra reached across the table and clasped the other woman's hand with a firm, reassuring grip.

"We will find who did this, Miss Brzenska. I promise you," Petra said, emphasizing her statement with another squeeze to Rico's hand. She didn't often make promises like these, but when she did, Petra fully intended to keep it.

* * *

"So, what are we doing tonight?" Petra asked. She was standing in Hanji's studio apartment kitchen, eyeing the mountain of textbooks and paperwork that covered the small island counter with faint curiosity. It was odd, eating out on a Friday night. After the emotionally charged interview with Rico, Petra felt bad that she was going out instead of working on the case. She felt strangely naked without the weighted assurance of her gun at her side. Well, it wasn't like she could hide it in her blue smock dress and lace tights ensemble anyway. Beside her, Nanaba was wrestling with the brunette tangles of Hanji's hair, trying her best to make it look presentable. The blonde woman was wearing a stunning red and white cocktail frock cinched at the waist, whilst Hanji had opted for a refined shirt and ¾ pants. All the girls had decided on wearing sensible shoes instead of ludicrous heels.

"We are going out for dinner, and then we are going to _The Legion_ for drinks and gossip," Hanji answered, head jerking to the left at a particularly hard pull of the brush in Nanaba's hands.

"_The Legion_? Seriously?" Petra said. _The_ _Legion_ was a well known bar and club inside the suburb of Trost. It was known to be full of the eccentric and downright strange, hosting obscure and sometimes taboo parties. Hanji nodded vigorously, earning a sharp smack to the back of the head from Nanaba.

"_Hold_ _still!_ And yes, we figured it would be a nice start for you. Get you back into the social scene again," Nanaba explained, a wry smile lighting her face.

"We're going to help you get your freak on. Besides, there's a tattoo party happening there tonight and I want to get some sexy bones again," Hanji added. It was no secret to the workers of the precinct that Hanji Zoe was a fan of her work; so much so that she had permanent reminders inked into her skin. She had anatomically correct muscles, veins, arteries and bones littered across her body. She had lungs, a stomach and intestines encased in a ribcage along her torso. She even had kidneys and ovaries tattooed near her bikini line.

"What else could you possibly tattoo?" Nanaba asked, pulling at a particularly stubborn knot.

"I need a spine, and a heart," Hanji stated happily.

"So at the moment you're a spineless and unfeeling mockery of a human?" Petra asked snidely. Nanaba and Hanji both snorted with laughter.

"Seems about right, Petra baby," the M.E sniggered. With a final tug, Nanaba pulled Hanji's mane of locks into a messy up-do, complimenting the wild, frazzled look in the woman's brown eyes.

"Ready to go?"

"Bring on the alcohol and the freaks of the night!"

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Most definitely. But you love us anyway."

* * *

**What the hell, peoples?!** Two chapters in two days! You're kindness and eagerness is doing things to my writing capabilities. I have never been so goddamn productive in my life. Bad Cop Petra is awesome! So is tattooed Hanji. SHE WOULD TOTALLY GET OVARY TATTOOS! YOU KNOW SHE WOULD!

I've got mates coming over and my final week of Uni until the teaching break. BUT THEN I AM FREE FOR TWO WEEKS! Updates will hopefully commence from then on. You're all lovely and sweet and killing me with feels. Rational out!

**Written to:  
**_Dynamo: Magician Impossible_ – HE HAS TO BE A FUCKING REALITY WARPER!  
_World's Deadliest_ – It was about _Vultures_ today. Coincidence? I THINK NOT!  
_Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations_ – the way this man speaks is music to my ears.  
_Miami Ink_ – Stupid Sexy Ami James! Also, tattoos. It seemed appropriate.


	5. Faust

**While All The Vultures Feed** – A LevixPetra fanfiction  
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin or any of its characters/themes!  
Please see end for notes :)

* * *

Chapter 5: Faust

To say that _The Legion_ was loud would be an understatement. Petra could feel the heavy beats of underground metal music rattling her teeth in her jaw. The bass sent vibrations through the oak floor and up the patchwork brick walls, skittering shot glasses across the neon lit bar benches and tables that were scattered around the edges of the large dance pit in the centre of the room. It was filled with bright pink foam and gyrating bodies, smoke cascading down the sides of the pit and billowing up in a swirling mass of seductive curls. There were no windows, only a small entrance door that was guarded by a heavy set man in a sleeveless black suit that showed off his extensive tattoos. Neon strobe lights and flickering fairy lights lined the walls and ceiling, bathing the club in bright colours before snapping shut and changing, like a chameleon on an acid trip. The bar was being manned by two women with a multitude of piercings; their necks and bodies encased in tight PVC corsets and chains. The taller of the two smiled coolly as she handed Petra her _Bloody Maria_.

"You're new here," she said, confident in her statement. She grinned, flashing her filed teeth and tattooed gums. Petra was sure her eyes were going to pop out of her head with her horrified and curious gawking. The bartender sniggered at her expression. "Yep. You're definitely a newbie."

"Are you torturing our dear baby bird, Starling?" Hanji's voice boomed over the thumping music. Starling smiled again as Hanji slid in next to Petra, slinging an arm around the smaller woman. The brunette was covered in glitter and residual pink foam that had yet to seep into her clothing. Her cheeks were flushed with alcohol and exhilaration, her empty _Corpse Reviver #2_ gripped tightly in her free hand. "Come dance, Petra. The foam is really warm," she chuckled.

"You really should give it a go," Starling agreed, handing Hanji a shot of peach flavoured vodka. Hanji downed it with a quick flick of her wrist. "Or you could go watch the show that's on upstairs if the pit isn't your thing."

"Show?" Nanaba asked, ducking in beside Petra, effectively boxing her in against Hanji's warm, damp side. Her short hair was mussed and hanging in her eyes, and her eyeliner was running slightly giving her a mysterious and sexy appeal. Petra wouldn't have been surprised if the statuesque blonde had been propositioned several times over the course of the night. "You mentioned tattoos back at the apartment," Nanaba continued, brushing her stray bangs form her eyes.

"Oh yeah! I wanted work done," Hanji said. "Who's the artist on this time?"

"Faust," Starling said, a note of affection colouring her tone. "His work is gorgeous. He's the one you go to for the gory stuff. The guy has a real finesse for the details, almost as if he's seen an eviscerated stomach before."

"Oh, he's one of my mates. I've had work done by him. He did my lungs and ribs," Hanji said happily.

"_Top off now_," Starling ordered with a gasp, reaching over and tugging at the wet fabric of Hanji's shirt, itching for a look at the ink underneath.

"I am not drunk enough to start stripping," Hanji proclaimed with a sway, batting away the intruding hands. Starling grinned.

"I can change that. _Slivovitz_?" The three women eyed the glasses that magically appeared on the bar whilst Starling held the spout of a large square bottle of dark amber liquid over them. It smelled heavily of sweet plums. The bartender waggled her perfectly pencilled eyebrows.

"I'll have to pass, sweet cheeks," Hanji sighed. "You said Faust was upstairs?"

"Yes. Anything else I can get you ladies?" Starling asked, spotting Petra's untouched _Bloody Maria_. Petra took a quick sip, finding it to be much nicer than she expected.

"We're all good for the moment. We'll be back later after Hanji's finished writhing in agony," Nanaba said. Hanji and Starling both laughed.

"No gain without pain," the bartender said.

"Onwards to the torture! Say goodbye to the nice lady, Petra," Hanji cooed. Petra swatted at her playfully. Hanji cackled and waltzed away, Nanaba on her arm, both heading towards the out of way staircase near the bathrooms on the far side of the club.

"It was... um, nice to meet you," Petra finally managed. Starling nodded in kind, flashing her filed teeth again. Petra scooped up her drink and made a quick escape, Starling's lilting, perverse laugh following her into the throngs of dancing people and thumping music.

* * *

The floor upstairs was surprisingly quiet. Petra could still faintly hear the music pounding up from the speakers below though it was muted, little more than a ripple that thrummed through the wooden floorboards. The room she was standing in was split in two by a brickwork arch, separating the second smaller bar from what Petra assumed was the show room. The place was lit with warm white lights that one would associate with an office rather than a popular club. Art of various styles hung on the walls, each with white annotated stickers displaying the artist's name and the price of the piece. Petra found that she much preferred it up here than she did down below. She wasn't much of a clubber, finding the intimate, cosy atmosphere of the local pubs and taverns more to her liking.

Hanji and Nanaba had already darted into the show room and Petra followed after them, taking note of a massive mural painted across the brickwork. It was a pair of stylised wings, one overlapping the other, and encased in a simple shield – the symbol for the club. The logo for _The Legion_ was quite famous throughout Sina, and the world for that matter. Petra stopped to appreciate the clean lines and simple design, a foreign memory of tan jackets with a similar badge sewn into the material. She shook her head, the alcohol messing with her brain, and ducked into the show room.

The show room turned out to be a piercing and tattoo shop. A board hung on the wall closest to the entrance, advertising the work that happened and the artists who worked there. Underneath the 'guest artist' section, in bold and slopping calligraphy, was the name Faust. Petra peered around, taking in the vast wall to floor folders of tattoo stencils, and the glass cabinets filled with various piercings, plugs and chains. She'd never been inside a body modification shop before – Petra didn't even have her ears pierced.

She found Nanaba and Hanji not too far away, standing around with a small group of others, watching a young man groan and flinch as a tattooist worked away at a medium sized design on his back. The sharp, hissing buzz of the needle as it drilled into skin sent Petra's stomach into queasy jolts. She hated needles. Nevertheless, she inched closer, morbid curiosity taking over. The tattoo was nearly finished: a winged angel with a painted face, cradling the skeleton of a child surrounded by white and red roses. The man moaned again, twitching the muscles in his shoulder blades, only to receive a sharp, hard smack to the back of his head from the tattooist.

"Quit moving, idiot! You'll fuck up the colouring," the tattooist growled. Something about the artist tugged at Petra's memory: the ruffled black hair sheared short at the nape, the pale skin, and the caustic, crass language. An image of a bruised, toned chest, a scarred neck and metallic grey eyes heavy with exhaustion and lust flickered into being, and then quickly vanished. Petra blinked, wondering if she was going mad. Perhaps that last drink had been one too many.

"It hurts though," the man whimpered with a slur. "You said three hours, Faust. Three hours. I've been here for, like, fifty."

"Your drunken ass is what made this longer than necessary. Next time sober up before you come to me for work," Faust snapped. With a final sweep of his hand, Faust finished the tattoo, using a spray bottle filled with a hygienic solution to clean the blood and excess ink away from the body art. "You can get off the chair now," he added. The young man did as he was told, stumbling to his feet and wobbling slightly from a combination of alcohol and throbbing pain. He staggered over to a floor to ceiling length mirror and twisted about, trying to see his new ink. The tattooist propped a smaller mirror up behind him, allowing his client to finally get a good look.

"This is sweet, Faust," the man said, grinning in a way only the completely smashed knew how to.

"Sure. Move your ass," Faust replied, tone dripping with annoyance. It was then that the tattooist turned around to address his crowd. Petra let out a startled squeak when she realised that the tattooist was, in fact, her new neighbour. Hanji and Nanaba peered down at her, confused by the tiny detective's reaction. Hanji's bewildered expression suddenly turned malicious, eyes glinting mischievously from behind her round glasses.

"Oh, do you know Faust, Petra baby?" she whispered, leering at her. Faust, well, Levi, seemed to have overheard their conversation. His hard frown twitched into mild surprise for a moment when his eyes landed on them, before it slid back into place.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Hanji?" Levi asked, shoving past his audience so he could glare caustically up at her, though there was no real heat in his eyes. Hanji swooped upon him, planting a playful kiss on his forehead, earning her a sharp whack in the ribs.

"I missed you too, Levi," she laughed. "We heard you were doing some guest work. You think you could work on me again? I'm in need of a heart and spine."

"Figures," Levi scoffed, though he seemed interested in what Hanji was proposing. "I'm finished for the night anyway. Too many wasted shitheads around asking for stupid tattoos." At his words the crowd let out a distressed and disappointed groan. "Get over it!" Levi snapped. The group shuffled out of the show room, mumbling and swearing under their breath as they went, leaving Levi with Hanji, Nanaba and Petra.

"Oh, this is Nanaba and Petra, two of my work buddies," Hanji said, nodding at the two other women. Levi dutifully shook Nanaba's outstretched hand, before turning to Petra. He smirked.

"I didn't know you were into this sort of lifestyle, _Ral,_" he said. Petra's mouth twitched into a forced smile as Hanji sniggered loudly beside her.

"You said you were an artist, _Ţepeş_," she countered.

"I am. Just because your canvas happens to be flesh doesn't change that."

"You know each other already?" Nanaba inquired, picking up on Hanji's meddling tone.

"We live in the same building," Levi supplied, eyes never leaving Petra.

"Yeah. We had a chat on the windowsill one morning," Petra added, trying to appear casual. Hanji was practically vibrating with excitement, the gears in her head clicking and whirring as she put together whatever evil and devious little plan she had. Petra hated to think what the brunette was planning. She was thankfully saved by the sharp chimes of a cellphone. Hanjiw as quick to answer it. She nodded her head once before hanging up with a quick 'thanks'.

"That was Moblit," Hanji sighed.

"Moblit? You mean that weedy guy who constantly hovers over your shoulder?" Nanaba asked, grimacing slightly.

"Bingo. Anyway, he just got those tests back from the tissue samples we pulled from Dietrich's fingernails."

"Really? What did it say?"

"Our killer is a Caucasian male."

* * *

**LONG CHAPTER IS LONG! **First things first, guys! I do actually know someone who has filed teeth and tattooed gums (they're absolutely lovely and sweet too). I have been to some very strange and interesting clubs in my short time on earth so far, despite the fact that I absolutely loathe them and also don't drink much. These places are what I am basing _The Legion_ on. If you're old enough you should definitely check out some of these underground clubs. Petra's drink is based off a _Bloody Aztec_, but she prefers wines, beers and whiskeys over the mixed stuff. I figured Hanji would be a very adventurous drinker, but she'd be swayed more towards drinks that had cool names, such as the _Corpse Reviver #2_ and _Hangman's Blood_. Nanaba would be one of those drinkers who quietly knocks back stuff like _Ouzo_ and _Tequila_ and doesn't appear to be even slightly affected by the high alcohol content. She's also that friend who never gets a hangover no matter how much she drinks.

**Written to:  
**_Counting Bodies Like Sheep To The Rhythm Of The War Drums_ – A Perfect Circle  
_Narcissistic Cannibal_ – Korn ft Skrillex & Kill The Noise  
_Starfuckers, Inc._ – Nine Inch Nails  
_Eon_ - Celldweller


	6. Crimes Against Humanity

**While All The Vultures Feed** – A LevixPetra fanfiction  
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin or any of its characters/themes!  
Please see end for notes :)

* * *

Chapter 6: Crimes Against Humanity

"Well, guess I was wrong," Nanaba muttered dully. Petra shot her a confused look as the blonde reached into her gold clutch purse and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. "You win this round, Hanji."

"Sweet, sweet victory," Hanji cooed. She snatched the money and breathed in the scent of the crisp paper note, eyelids fluttering closed in exaggerated bliss. Petra's jaw nearly dislocated from her skull in shock.

"You made bets on the gender of the killer?!" she practically screeched. Hanji and Nanaba both appeared sheepish, similar to a cat caught with feathers in its mouth. Levi looked amused, if the tiniest creases around his eyes could be classified as a smile.

"You shouldn't be surprised, Ral," he drawled. "You do work with _Miss Bat-Shit-and-Insane_ after all."

"_Levi, you sweet talker_. Keep saying stuff like that and I might fall for you!" Hanji gasped. Levi snorted, a feral chuckle escaping his lips, eyes glinting like the barrel of a gun in candlelight. Petra was momentarily transfixed, something tugging at her brain: those same eyes staring back at her, lidded with exhaustion, from coarse sheets on a freezing night, feathery touches trailing down her spine. She brought a hand to her face and kneaded her temples. Yep, _way_ too much to drink.

"Please tell me you're not betting on who's going to get shot in the line of duty next?" she said with a sigh.

"We're not that depraved, Petra baby," Hanji reassured, thumping the smaller woman on the back. Petra nearly pitched forward into the floor, luckily catching herself on the inked muscle of Levi's right arm. She muttered a quick apology upon noticing the almost shell-shocked expression that rippled across his face, as if her touch had burned him. She had little time to ponder his strange reaction, because Hanji was speaking again. "... see Moblit about this. Shame we have to cut this short, Levi. I really wanted to get some ink."

"Sure." Levi replied distractedly, shaking his right arm as if it was riddled with phantom pain. "Come down to the shop and we'll talk," he said after a moment longer.

"So, you're going now?" Petra asked, a note of disappointment slipping into her voice. She'd enjoyed herself a lot tonight, and though it was nearly three in the morning, she didn't want to go home just yet. She looked to Nanaba, and was stung to find the woman was speaking quietly on her phone, a coy smile on her face. It looked like the night was going to end after all. Nanaba hung up just as Hanji turned back to Petra.

"Sorry, Petra baby. I'm going back into the lab, and Nanaba is meeting up with Mike for a booty call," she said. Nanaba's cheeks turned impossibly red and she spluttered lightly. "Don't deny it! You've been texting him all night. Anyway, why don't you and Levi walk home together? You're neighbours so you could get to _know_ one another," she suggested, eyes sliding from a flushed Nanaba to Petra with sly intent. Petra's nerves went into a flurry of wariness, and she glanced at Levi from the corners of her eyes. He was still preoccupied with his thoughts, occasionally flexing his arm as if his skin was itching with ants. Petra woefully wondered if she had seriously offended him with her accidental touch.

"Oh, that sounds like a great idea," Nanaba chimed happily, the earlier embarrassment wiped clean from her face. Petra's eye twitched. Were they seriously trying to do what she thought they were doing? It was then that Levi decided to snap out of his stupor, and he glared up at Hanji through dark lashes.

"What the fuck are you up to, woman?" he demanded caustically. Hanji merely grinned at him where body builders would have been wetting themselves. Petra fleetingly wondered if she could possibly capitalise on Levi's murderous glare. She could bring him in for interrogations and scare the information out of the suspects. A little snigger left her lips at the thought of seeing Levi boring holes into a stocky drug runner's head with his gaze.

"You should get Petra to walk you home," Hanji explained. "The streets are no place for a pretty thing like you all on your lonesome. If there's any trouble, she can shoot your worries away." Levi actually laughed at that. It only lasted for a second – a dark, husky sound that smouldered up from his throat, before he seemed to catch himself and abruptly stopped. His eyes slid to Petra, a calculating look working behind his gun metal grey irises.

"What do you say, Ral? Think you can hack it and keep my ass safe on these terrifying Sina streets?" he teased, a faint smirk curling the corners of his lips. Petra felt her neck prickle at the issued challenge. She tossed a sharp glare at Hanji and Nanaba over her shoulder, bristling when she noticed them snickering behind their hands.

"Only if we get coffee."

* * *

"This is quite possibly the shittiest coffee I have ever had," Levi declared sourly. They were standing on the corner of Avenue Maria, one of the more violent areas of Sina, and sipping at substandard coffee from a small walking cart stand that had stopped in the area. Petra nodded in agreement, swallowing another scalding mouthful of the drink. It was better than nothing, but she couldn't help but feel the curling disappointment she always developed when drinking crappy caffeine.

"It's a shame _Spec Op_ isn't open at these hours. Their coffee is to die for," she sighed. Levi huffed but didn't comment. They'd chosen to cut through Avenue Maria on their way back to their apartment building because it would hack the journey back by ten minutes. It was also quieter: the area was empty save for a few stragglers wandering home from the local pubs, and the odd taxi that zipped past. They'd walked in companionable silence for the most part, Levi letting out a tired yawn now and again.

"Long day?" Petra asked, attempting conversation. Levi scoffed, digging his free hand into the pocket of his leather jacket.

"You could say that," he answered. He rolled his neck, and Petra heard the audible popping sound of his joints. She guessed that leaning over people all day as you stabbed needles continuously into their skin would give you a sore neck and back. "But I'm sure you've got it worse than I do," he added softly. Petra, startled by his observation, only stared at him numbly. She hastily took another gulp of her coffee to stop her gawking, only to gag and cough as the bitter liquid scorched its way down her throat.

"Ugh, you're right. This _is_ the shittiest coffee ever," she commented.

"Would you arrest me if I decided to beat the barrister over this?" Levi asked, tone conveying a genuine seriousness.

"This coffee is a crime against humanity. I'm pretty sure you'd be doing the world a favour," Petra replied, matching his frankness. Levi grinned at her then; a quick tilt of his lips that revealed sharp teeth.

"Good to know I have the law on my side."

"Don't push your luck."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Ral."

"It's Petra."

"Sorry?"

"It's Petra, not Ral," she repeated, feeling strangely bold with her forwardness. She wasn't going to lie to herself; she _was_ attracted to Levi. He was different to the other men that she had dated before. He was blunt, abrasive, and seemed to dislike and despise anything and everything that he came into contact with. Petra would have doubted that he enjoyed anything if she hadn't seen the gentle care that he had taken with his children. He was mature, she realised. He'd seen the world, acknowledged it for what it was, and decided to simply carve his own way through it instead of rolling along with the flow. He was also quite good looking.

There was also that nagging feeling she got whenever she looked into his eyes. A sense of déjà vu, that she'd seen that gaze before in a different time and a different life. One filled with a hopeless war and desperation. Petra had at first chalked up the feelings and little daydream episodes as simply having too much alcohol in her system, but now, after sobering up a little, she wasn't so sure. The way Levi had reacted to her touch, the mural on the wall at _The Legion_, the people she worked with, her job: it was all familiar and at the same time not.

Her thoughts carried her up the steps to the entrance of her apartment building, and into the elevator. Levi pressed the button for the fifth floor before he leaned against the opposite wall, eyes watching her critically.

"What?" Petra asked. Levi didn't answer. His brow furrowed sharply, as if he was frustrated with something.

"It's nothing," Levi finally said, eyes turning to the flashing numbers at the crest of the elevator. Petra frowned lightly, but decided not to push him on the subject. She knew Levi wouldn't like that – how, she wasn't sure. The elevator let out a soft ping as it reached the fifth floor, and the two got out, making their way down the hallway towards their respective apartments. Petra reached her door and began to unlock it, glancing at Levi as he pushed his own door open, key already in the lock. He was looking right at her, causing a tiny shiver to run down Petra's spine. His stare was heated with an emotion Petra couldn't name, and also clouded with curiosity.

"Good night then, Petra," he said quietly. He disappeared inside his apartment before Petra could reply.

* * *

**Dollypop12** posted a review of WATVF on Tumblr and I just asdhjgfslkfl! I CAN'T DEAL WITH THESE EMOTIONS *hysterical sobbing*

I have a two week teaching break now where I'm supposed to do Uni work... we all know that this is NOT going to happen. Also, NanabaxMike is my favourite ship besides Rivetra. Like, you have no fucking idea how much I adore Nanaba and Mike.  
And another thing, I promised Ana that I would write _another_ multi chapter Rivetra AU after I finished this one. SO MUCH PRESSURE!  
Peace out, guys. You're all so perfect it's fucking crippling me.


	7. Hangover Blues

**While All The Vultures Feed** – A LevixPetra fanfiction  
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin or any of its characters/themes!  
Please see end for notes :)

* * *

Chapter 7: Hangover Blues

_She was flying. Petra was flying, sweeping over stone arches and terracotta alcoves, zipping past intricate church steeples and tiny terrace gardens. She could feel the rush of the air whipping past her face, bruising her cheeks a pretty rouge colour with the force of her speed. There was a comfortable weight on her thighs and at her back, twin blades gripped in her hands, cables rocketing from a mechanism at her waist. She felt weightless, desperate with fear and exhilaration, and so incredibly powerful. She was a faery in the sky, carving death into her foes and hope into her people. And beside her, leading the charge, was the god of death himself: her captain, Levi._

Petra snapped awake just as her phone buzzed to life. She flailed about for a hazardous moment, limbs tangled in her sheets, head pounding furiously. She wrenched an arm free and snatched at her phone, catching it just before it tumbled off her bedside table. She took a quick look at her watch; the neon green numbers flashed up at her, reading 10:03am. She'd slept longer than expected. Good thing it was a Saturday. She answered the phone.

"Petra speaking," she croaked.

"It's Auruo. I've got some information you need to hear. Can you get down here in an hour?"

"Uh, sure. What's the rush?" she asked, noting the resolute seriousness in the man's tone.

"It's just important. I'll see you soon," was all he said, coldly, before he hung up. Petra waited a moment longer before she pressed the end call button on her own phone. She wondered what information had caused Auruo to act the way he had just then. Auruo was a good cop, having transferred from the military only four years ago. He was brash, rude, and at times could be a little sexist. But he never acted coldly towards her, even on the job. Whatever it was that he had discovered must have been serious, and bad.

Petra flopped back down into her pillows, fingers tapping against the black case of her phone in agitation. Dear Sina, her head _really_ hurt. It was like someone had doused her brain in boiling oil and then had bounced it like a basketball into a frying pan of acid. She swore Hanji and Nanaba down to the very depths of hell, promising to never again drink. She always got the worst hangovers imaginable. And she would bet her life savings that Hanji and Nanaba weren't even hurting... bitches. She rolled over, stuffing her head beneath her feather pillows. Maybe if she caught a little more sleep she would feel better; drift off into that strange dream... _the dream!_

Petra scrambled upright, instantly regretting it as her eyes blurred and her brain smacked against the inside of her skull painfully. She took a deep breath and waited for the nauseous feeling in her stomach and head to clear, cursing Hanji and Nanaba a second time for good measure. The dream, was to put it simply, the strangest and most familiar thing Petra had ever experienced. It left her mind jittery, skin tingling with muscle memory of movements that she had never performed before in her life. What had she been doing? How had she been flying – bloody hell, she'd been fucking _flying_ over rooftops – and why had she been holding swords? Why had she felt so terrified and so delighted at the same time? And why the hell had _Levi_ been part of it?

Petra sighed, rubbing her temples, willing away the dream and the pain of her hangover. Now was not the time for psychoanalysis of her increasingly strange dreams and flash memories. She couldn't have both of these issues distracting her from her work. Ian Dietrich was dead, his fiancée was an emotional wreck, and Petra had promised she would find the person or persons responsible for it. Petra never went back on her word. But if she was going to work on this case on a Saturday while suffering from a hangover, she was going to need industrial strength coffee.

* * *

An hour later and Petra was down at the precinct, a triple shot latte minus the sugar heating her small hands. Her hangover had dissipated marginally after her shower and coffee fix, thank goodness. Auruo was standing imperiously over at the evidence board, furiously rearranging the contents of a ruffled manila file. They were waiting on Erd and Gunter to arrive – the two of them stuck in Saturday mid-morning traffic – so they could go over the latest information that had been discovered. Petra eyed the crime scene photos with sad, waning interest. She'd been looking at them for a while now and they had done little to help with the case except show how the body and apartment had been found.

Her eyes travelled to the time line beneath the photos. Numbers, notes and paper post-its littered the white surface in untidy scrawls. She ran everything over in her head again: murder committed at 2:28am, police called at 3:00am due to disturbance, body discovered at 3:22am, team called in at 4:00am, and so on and... _wait_. Petra zoomed back to the T.O.D and the disturbance call. If Dietrich had died at 2:28am, then why had someone called about a noise complaint at 3:00am? Petra let out a startled little gasp of fury and happiness – fury for not noticing it sooner, and happiness because she'd found something worth looking into.

"Auruo, I've got something," she said just as Erd and Gunter sauntered into the precinct quarters. Both appeared windswept and a little breathless. Erd was clutching a cardboard coffee holder in both hands; it had four Styrofoam cups perched snugly inside it. He quickly handed out the steaming coffee, noting amusedly that Petra already had one. She took the offered drink anyway. Like hell was she going to pass up free coffee, and the good kind too.

"What'd you find?" Gunter asked, plopping down at his own desk, scattering reports as he did so.

"Our vic died at 2:28am, so why did somebody raise the alarm at 3:00am?" she asked. Erd and Gunter both frowned. "The neighbour notified the police when she heard someone making a ruckus in the apartment. But Dietrich had been dead for over half an hour already."

"So, what, you're implying that the killer stuck around for half an hour at a murder scene?" Auruo asked sceptically, tone dripping with sarcasm. Petra shot him a filthy look despite the fact that he had a point.

"Or maybe somebody else got into the apartment after our killer fled," Erd said. "Good work, Petra. Now we have another lead that we can work with. We need to find out what this other mystery person, or our killer, was so desperate to recover from Dietrich's home."

"I may have something pertaining to that," Auruo interrupted. Petra's head whipped about, her hair slashing across her face and blocking her view of the man for a scant second. Auruo looked at her and the rest of the team for a moment as if they'd all grown talking dolphins from their heads – Petra realised they must have been staring at him disturbingly – before he cleared his throat. "So you know how I was meant to have an interview with that Pixis guy?" he began, glancing at them still with wariness.

"I thought you spoke to him on Thursday?" Petra said, butting in and raising an accusatory eyebrow. Auruo made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat.

"The old fart backtracked and said he couldn't make it. He rescheduled for Friday, but by the time he came in you and your little girlfriends had already gone boozing," he replied stiffly. Petra's frown deepened but she held her tongue. "Anyway, we got talking about Dietrich and why he'd had Pixis' number in his pocket. Turns out that Pixis has been in negotiations with Dietrich for months about a job position." He explained.

"You're serious?" Gunter coughed. There was disbelief littered across his face like leaves in Sina Park during mid autumn.

"I am. Pixis has two other assistants besides that Rico woman. Names are Mitabi Jarnach and Anka Rhienberger. Anka's due with a little tike-bomb at the end of next month, so Pixis was looking for a replacement whilst she was on leave. Apparently Rico mentioned this to Ian and he rang Pixis about it several months ago. They've been discussing it ever since," Auruo said.

"Okay. So how does this help with what we're looking for?" Erd demanded. Auruo smirked.

"Pixis said that Dietrich had been acting strangely at their last meeting. He kept getting distracted by his phone, was looking over his shoulder like someone was watching him. The old man managed to catch a bit of his conversation before they parted ways."

"Well?" Petra pressed.

"Apparently our dear, squeaky clean friend was being blackmailed by someone."

* * *

Petra shuffled awkwardly inside her apartment hours later, arms jammed ramrod straight inside her cream coloured trench coat pockets, trying to ensnare some warmth into her frozen fingers. Sina had become awfully cold in the past few weeks despite the fact that it was only late summer. Petra didn't really like the cold all that much. It was only good for lazy weekends curled in bed with books, scented candles, soup and good coffee. And hot chocolate, which, she decided, she hadn't had for quite a while. Time to change that.

She snapped over to the kitchen and began pulling out the ingredients she needed: milk, chocolate, cinnamon, vanilla, and marshmallows. She lit the stovetop, slammed a pot down and added milk, cinnamon and vanilla straight away. She grated the chocolate whilst the milk began to heat up and then added it to the mix, humming a spritely tune under her breath. Minutes later and the drink was ready; a foamy heaven of chocolate hidden beneath a sea of little marshmallows. She stole a quick glance at her watch – 6pm, so plenty of time before she had to start dinner if she could be bothered cooking – before her eyes shifted to her bedroom and the window that lay beyond it. It would still be cold outside, but she figured a coat would be enough to keep her warm. She really wanted a moment to herself to think about the new information they'd assembled as well.

She traipsed over to her bedroom, kicked the door open lazily, and then opened the window. Chilled air slapped her across the face in a vicious assault. She had been right about the weather. She scurried over to her wardrobe and pulled out an old woollen cardigan – one of her father's favourites which she'd pinched by accident during her last visit – and then clambered out of the window so she could sit on the sill by the fire escape. She glanced over to the other ledge, noting with a hint of disappointment that Levi was not there. The window was open however, and she could hear the diverse noises of a television show playing. Happy, childish laughter bubbled up from the two younger residents inside. Petra sipped at her hot chocolate, enjoying the flavour and the solitude.

"... really isn't a good time," Levi's voice slithered out from the nearby open window. Petra, startled by the sound, shrank backwards so that she was half in and half out of her own apartment window. Her drink rippled dangerously close to the lip of the mug, splashing her fingers with hot liquid. She turned her head about; curious as to whom Levi was talking to, silently scolding herself for being a nosy eavesdropper. "I left that life behind me years ago," he snapped tersely, tiredly. "Fuck, you're the one that pulled me out of it in the first place."

"OH! Daddy said a bad word! You owe the jar money now," Eren cried in delight.

"Yes. Pay up, Father," Mikasa's meadowy voice added. Levi sighed loudly.

"Go get the jar," he said. There were two happy little squeals – one much more enthusiastic than the other – and the sound of stamping little feet disappearing into the far rooms of the apartment. "Anyway, I can't do this one," Levi continued, more hushed. "V_as te faire enculer!_ You said I didn't have to anymore," he spat venomously. There was a brief silence followed by a sharp, almost betrayed, intake of air. "Understood, sir... just get me the equipment," he muttered through gritted teeth. There was a blunt clacking sound of a phone being snapped closed, and Petra hurriedly pulled herself back inside her own apartment just as Levi decided to get some fresh air. She heard him swear furiously under his breath just as the jingling sound of metal clinking against glass pulled him away from the window.

"We've come to collect, Dad!" Eren crowed. Petra distinctly heard Levi snort.

"Alright. How much do I owe the bank this time?"

"40 cents. Eren and I were both here," Mikasa explained quietly. As the family moved away from the window, little feet and tinkling coins filtering through the air, Petra ran over the conversation she had heard. What exactly was going on, she wondered.

* * *

**THE PLOT THICKENS LIKE PUMPKIN SOUP!  
**Headcanon Time! Eren and Mikasa, being the smart and devious little darlings that they are, decided to capitalise on Levi's bad language and created a swear jar for him that they get to use as pocket money. They charge 20 cents for each swear word. They get on average $50 dollars a week to share.

I'm not sure if I got the French correct, but Levi basically told mysterious-yet-not-so-mysterious-phone-guy to _go fuck yourself_. If someone happens to know French and spots a mistake, please let me know. I'd like to make this as accurate as possible.

Next update will be whenever I have time to write so it might not be for a week or two.  
Also, I've begun work on the next Rivetra fic that I promised one of my online bros (Ana, I'm looking at you) that I would write. Look out for the first chapter of _Sleepwalking_ within the next week or so :)

**Written to:  
**_Don't Stay Here_ – Frames  
_The Only_ – Static-X  
_Midnight City_ – M83  
_Under My Feet_ – Celldweller


	8. I'll Be Watson, You Be Sherlock

**While All The Vultures Feed** – A LevixPetra fanfiction  
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin or any of its characters/themes!  
Please see end for notes :)

* * *

Chapter 8: I'll Be Watson, You Be Sherlock

The following Sunday morning saw Petra making furious tracks through her apartment. There was a fresh pot of coffee on her kitchen bench but she hadn't touched a drop. She'd been too wired to sleep last night after overhearing the strange conversation from Levi's apartment, and the cagey feeling that had settled in her stomach had persisted into the early dawn hours. She had so many questions that needed answering. What was the conversation about? Why had Levi seemed so upset, so angry? What had he said in, she guessed, French? Was he involved in something dangerous or illegal? She paused, toes curling in the plush rug beneath her feet, fingers drumming a staccato rhythm along her bare arms. Her phone buzzed to life on her coffee table. Petra stalked over; her mind still jumbled with stray questions, and read the text. It was from Hanji.

_need 2 talk asap! come 2 morgue_

_b there in 1/2_

_how was ur d8?_

_NOT a d8! we got coffee and walked home_

_i call bullshit!_

_ur an idiot_

_if i was, i would not b workin ere_

_touché. c u soon_

_bye Petra bby! :3_

_:C_

Half an hour later and Petra was sitting on the edge of a cold examination table inside the precinct's morgue. On the far side of the wall were two rows of metal freezers; their doors firmly closed with heavy polished handles and locks – as if the dead were prone to feats of escape and had to be locked in. Two other examination tables took up the centre of the room. Scalpels and tweezers and other tools Petra didn't know the names of were cluttered across the slabs. Thankfully they were all clean: Moblit's doing, she guessed. Surrounding the tables were steel work benches stocked with a variety of chemicals and medical equipment. Books lined the walls not taken up with freezers, along with posters of anatomy and periodic formula tables. Two glass tanks were perched on a stand closest to the entrance – a massive furry tarantula and a giant orange centipede could be seen scuttling about inside them. The tanks were labelled Sawney and Bean respectively in Hanji's messy handwriting.

"_So, give us the details_," Hanji cooed. She was sitting on an office chair backwards; chin resting on the back piece, and arms dangling uselessly by her sides. Her expression was positively giddy. She reminded Petra of a puppy that had been fed so much it was in a blissful food coma. She even had the dopey, sleepy eyes to go with it.

"After you and Nanaba _deserted_ us we walked down Avenue Maria, got shitty coffee and headed home," Petra said simply, frown accusatory. "There was no hand holding or kissing or making out, but we did plot the murder of the barista together," she continued before the other woman could speak. Hanji hummed, eyes sparkling behind her safety goggles.

"Plotting murder is a couple thing," Hanji said. Petra gave her a long, flat look. "You seem disappointed," she noted, tilting her head. Petra's frown slid from her face like water down a drain.

"You're right," she sighed, shoulders drooping. "I had this dream the other night. I was flying and there were monsters and grappling hooks and buildings everywhere. It was so _real_, Hanji, like I'd left this reality and gone to another one or something. And Levi was in it and everything made fucking sense. I was so happy to be, I don't know, fighting or flying next to him, whatever that means. Then I woke up, and this massive feeling of loss and frustration has been stuck with me ever since. Maybe I'm going nuts."

"Or maybe you've had too much coffee," Hanji supplied. Petra smiled half-heartedly. "Don't worry, Pet. I'm sure it's nothing serious, just a bit of stress from working on this case nonstop... But you should have a psyche test for that freaky ass dream."

"Not helping, Hanji."

"I am _always_ helpful! But I guess I'm not really the best person for dream and relationship advice. You should talk to Nanaba. She and our scruffily fantastic Mike have been together for nearly seven years."

"_Seven years?!"_ Petra choked. She'd known Mike and Nanaba were a serious item, but she hadn't realised the two had been together for so long.

"Yep. Crazy idiots should hurry up and get married. They're so fucking adorable I could puke rainbows and fart unicorns, and I _know_ that's biologically impossible."

"Seven years," Petra repeated, mild awe and terror shaking her voice. How could you be so in love and devoted to someone you could stay with them for seven years and longer? It boggled her. A little sliver of envy poked her heart. Nanaba was so goddamn lucky.

"_Mhm_. But like I said, I can't help you with this one. You need Nanaba for that, and I need you to focus on what I've found on our dead friend," Hanji said. "I found trace amounts of fibres in his mouth and throat. Someone gagged him just before they snapped his neck. Probably did it to cut the sound of a struggle," she explained. She held up a clear plastic packet which contained several long white fibres. "My guess is that it's from a scarf or a jumper of some sort."

"That makes sense. Auruo found out that Dietrich was being blackmailed by someone. He was in talks with Garrison Inc. to get a job with them. Apparently he'd been trying to leave his old job at MP Industries for months," Petra said. Her fingers drummed across the cool metal table, tapping a random beat as she thought. "We should probably go back and interview the people Ian worked with again, dig a little deeper. Maybe they noticed something that Rico didn't."

"Good thinking, Watson," Hanji beamed. Petra pouted.

"Excuse me, I'm the real detective here. I'm Sherlock."

"Uh, no. Sherlock was all for science and experimentation. If I remember correctly, you refused to try that mixed drink I made at the last Christmas shindig. Your chicken shit self is no Sherlock," she grinned. Petra's pout deepened. There was no arguing with Hanji's logic.

"I suppose I'm the one with the training and the gun," she agreed.

"Excellent. Now off you go, Watson. I'm about to have mummy time with my babies before I have to cut up the next stiff that comes through those doors." Petra blanched and beat a hasty retreat. She refused to be around Hanji's absolutely horrific 'babies'. Those creatures made her skin itch, like thousands of ants were crawling under her skin. No thanks. She was out of the morgue and half way up the stairs to the offices when she heard Hanji's soft cooing. Petra shuddered. So gross.

* * *

After making several phone calls to Dietrich's place of work, Petra had organised a meeting with a man named Nile Dawk. He was, well, _had_ been Ian's boss. She hadn't been able to get a good read on the man's character from the short conversation they'd had over the phone, but he seemed to be a precise and shrewd person. She wondered if bringing Gunter along would help with the interview. Her colleague had a quiet aura that made people relax and more open to probing questions. It was settled then. She was taking Gunter with her to the meeting tomorrow. She glanced at her watch. It was just past 1pm. She'd have time for a quick bite to eat before she headed back home; there was little else she could do down at the precinct except paperwork, and she really didn't feel like writing out reports.

She swiftly packed up her bag, and then made a measly effort of sorting through her desk, trying to make it pass for clean. She realised quite quickly that it was going to take a little more than simply shuffling manila folders into an orderly pile. She frowned, nose wrinkling, and promptly gave up. She stuffed the rest of the reports and letters into a teetering pile in the centre of her desk, picked up her bag, and made for the exit. She'd grab a coffee – something she hadn't had all day, horror of all horrors – and something from _Balto's Patisserie_ before heading home.

* * *

_Balto's__ Patisserie_ was the oldest confectionary company in Sina, specialising in sweet baked goods and chocolates. The store had started off as a lonely walking cart during the early years of Sina's development, but had flourished quickly into a multimillion dollar enterprise with new stores popping up all over the city every few months. The closest shop to Petra's apartment building was only two blocks over, perched inside a renovated cottage, and she often made little detours to and from the precinct to pick up a piece of homemade nougat.

As she entered the store, a bell on the door tingling to signal her arrival, a wave of warm honey and sugar filled her nose, along with the thrumming sound of refrigerated shelves and the whirl of ceiling fans. The place was a hive of activity as usual. The two registers already had customers waiting patiently in line, and there were others perusing the glass displays of cakes and biscuits. She took her place in the line nearest to her, already set on what she wanted to order. Behind her the bell tinkled again as the door was pushed open. Loud and excited chatter filled her ears.

"So we can have anything?" the boy asked giddily. Petra could practically feel the child's eagerness seeping into her fingertips, making them tingle.

"Go nuts." Petra started, recognising the low, smooth timbre. She peeked over her shoulder. Standing by the door, dressed in a sharp casual blazer and dark wash jeans, was Levi. Petra felt her mouth go just a little bit dry. He looked _really_ nice dressed up. She could only imagine what he'd look like in a suit and... she needed to stop. She turned her focus away from him, eyes landing on the object of his attention. Eren was standing on Levi's left, hands gripped behind his back and bouncing happily on the balls of his feet. His bright green eyes were darting all across the store, settling on the many different sweets and pastries. On the right was Mikasa, red scarf once again hiding the lower half of her face from view, hand grasping one of Levi's fingers in an affectionate hold. Her doe grey eyes were fixed on the sweet dumpling display.

"Are you sure?" she asked. Levi nodded. It was as if someone had lit a green light in front of their eyes, because the two children shot towards the dumplings, furiously discussing which flavour was best and how many they could eat before they got sick. Petra snickered at their antics.

"You'll probably regret that," she said, turning to face Levi with a smile. He didn't seem surprised to see her at all, though his eyes lingered on her for a long moment before they flicked over to where his kids were.

_"Non, je ne regrette rien,"_ he answered, more to himself than to Petra. She raised an eyebrow, curious. "We'll see," he said for clarification. "What brings you all the way down here? Don't have any dead bodies to poke at?" he asked. Petra scoffed.

"Believe it or not, but we do have the right to take a day off now and again," she said sourly, "besides, sometimes it's easier to see what you've missed after a break." Levi gave a short nod in agreement. "And you? You always get dressed up for a trip to the sweet shop?" she teased. Levi wrinkled his nose distastefully, and tugged at the collar of his shirt uncomfortably.

"I had an interview with the school board," he said. "Stuffy snobs have a suit and tie policy for their bloody interviews; assholes," he muttered darkly, as if they'd personally offended him on a murderous rampage level. "They want to place Eren and Mikasa into specialised classes along with some other kids. They're holding onto scholarships for them until they're eligible for it."

"That's wonderful," Petra exclaimed. Levi simply shrugged. "They must be very good students."

"So they say," Levi replied, glancing over to where Mikasa and Eren had moved to. Petra got the strangest feeling that the subject was worrying the man's nerves for some reason. He seemed at a bit of a loss as to what to say. She watched him take in a calming breath, as if he was psyching himself up. "How much did you hear?" he asked. Well she hadn't been expecting that.

"Huh?"

"Last night, when I was on the phone. You were listening. How much did you hear?" he repeated. Petra flushed at the accusation – mostly because he was right and she was confused as to how he'd found out. He seemed to be reading her mind. "Your window was open. You only open it when you're home," he explained.

"I didn't hear anything," she said quickly, avoiding his eyes. He chuckled.

"You're a terrible liar," he snorted. Petra hung her head, a groan escaping her lips. There was no use in hiding it.

"Okay, so I may have heard up to the part where you said something in French. I didn't mean to eavesdrop," she admitted. "You... you just sounded upset, and I didn't want to intrude," she said softly.

"I wasn't upset. I was pissed," he replied frankly. "Fucking Erwin and his client pushing," he scowled.

"Clients?" She wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

"Yeah. I do house calls for people who can't get down to the shop. These new guys want me to do some branding and scarring – something I personally hate despite the fact that I have the qualifications for it. Apparently I'm the only in Sina who has a license for it," he said, frown deepening. A wash of relief flooded Petra's mind. And here she'd been wracking her brains, worried that Levi had been up to something dangerous and illegal. Turns out he was just irritated with his boss, like so many other people in this city.

"Why do you hate it?"

"You can remove a tattoo. Granted it's expensive and really fucking hurts, but it can be done. Scars can't be. They're etched into you and once they're there you're stuck with it. They're just reminders of things that shouldn't have happened."

"Getting kind of deep there, Sophocles," Petra joked. Levi cracked a small smile, a mere quirk of the lips. Someone tugged gently on the hem of Petra's jacket. Standing just behind her were Eren and Mikasa. Eren was grinning toothily up at her, cheeks a happy pink, whilst Mikasa peered shyly from beneath her thick lashes. "Hi, guys. I heard you're doing really well in school," she said. Eren's smile got impossibly wider.

"Yeah! The school wants to put us in special classes because we're smart," he babbled. "Mikasa is the best, though. She gets A's on all her reports. She's really good," he praised. Mikasa ducked her head, hiding the tingle of a blush that lighted her cheeks.

"Eren is also very good," she replied. "Are you well, Miss Petra?"

"Yes. Thank you for asking," she smiled. "You guys are picking out something to eat? What's your favourite?"

"The sweet dumplings!" the two trilled together.

"Ma'am, are you ready to order?" the clerk at the counter called. Petra nodded. She stepped forward and placed her order, grabbing an iced sultana bun. She handed over some coins, told the clerk to keep the change, and grabbed the paper bag with her food.

"By guys, I'll see you later," she waved. Eren and Mikasa both waved back.

"Bye, Miss Petra. You catch those bad guys, okay," Eren said. She grinned.

"I'll do my best. Bye, Levi. Good luck with the oncoming sugar rush."

"Don't remind me, please," he huffed, though there was a smile in his voice. Petra laughed. She ducked outside the shop, nearly colliding with a tall, well dressed man with blond hair and cold blue eyes. She muttered a quick apology, the man dipping his head in acknowledgement, and then started her way for home. She couldn't wait to have a coffee with her food.

* * *

I'd like to thank everyone who sent me questions, prompts and reviews on and Tumblr. It really got me out of my writer's block. You're all so patient and kind and I really appreciate all the help I've received. You guys rock! If you're interested in seeing all of the answered questions about this fic and _Sleepwalking_, I've made a master-post on my profile here. They're basically little Easter Eggs about the characters and the world they live in, so if you like extra info and tiny spoilers then that's where you should go. ALSO, YOU CAN SEE WHAT LEVI AND PETRA LOOK LIKE IN THIS UNIVERSE! I've also done Hanji and Nanaba, as well as a small panel showing Mikasa, Eren and Petra on their respective windowsills.  
Back to the fic. _Balto's Patisserie_ is based off that lard of a lord in the episode we meet Pixis for the first time. Balto was stuffing his face with cake. I thought a pastry shop was an excellent way to play homage to him and to also expand the world of this fic.  
By the way, _Non, je ne regrette rien_ is French for 'No, I regret nothing'. It's a very beautiful song and was used in the film Inception, which is a personal favourite.

**Written to:  
**_Oh Beautiful Town_ – IAMX (this is the song I associate with Sina city)  
_Hey Now_ – London Grammar  
_Too Close_ – Alex Clare  
_Panic Cord_ – Gabrielle Aplin


	9. Gut Instincts and Hannes Anderson

**While All The Vultures Feed** – A LevixPetra fanfiction  
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin or any of its characters/themes!  
Please see end for notes :)

* * *

Chapter 9: Gut Instincts and Hannes Anderson

Petra's fingers curled into the pocket lining of her jacket, nails threatening to tear the fabric with her frustration. Hannes Anderson was sitting on the tiled floor of his kitchen apartment, leaning stiffly against the island counter. His pale eyes were unfocussed and rimmed red, neck popped at an unnatural angle. He was quite obviously dead. The smell of whiskey and Chinese takeout permeated through the studio apartment, causing Petra's nose to curl in disgust as she surveyed the scene. There was a neatly made bed running parallel to the far wall, sitting beneath the lone window that was partially open. The bed was the only tidy thing in the apartment: dirty dishes were piled in the sink, clothes had been stuffed into a basket so high that it spilled across the floor, and empty beer cans were scattered across the kitchen counter and the glass coffee table. A typical bachelor pad, Petra mused.

The Forensics unit was already sweeping the place for evidence. Their cameras snapped and flashed in the enclosed, dank space, lighting it up like an electrical storm. Hanji was crouched next to Hannes' body, gloved hands gently feeling along the man's neck. Behind her was Moblit, a concentrated frown on his young face as he watched the proceedings.

"What've you got?" Petra asked, gears already grinding in her head.

"_Drunk and Disorderly_ has a snapped neck just like Dietrich. Perhaps they're starting a club?" Hanji answered, mood chipper as always when she was around a new body. Her hands continued their inspection, opening up the man's lax jaw to get a look inside his mouth. Moblit silently produced a small flashlight and dangled it in front of Hanji's face. "Oh. Thanks, kiddo," she grinned up at him. Moblit's cheeks coloured a little. Petra felt a tiny smile tug at her lips. It seemed Hanji had an admirer. "Phew! Man had a bit to drink from the smell of it, and I think I can see something else in there."

"Do you have a T.O.D yet?"

"Temperature and levidity put his death at about seven this morning," Moblit supplied. Hanji spun around, eyes sparkling from behind her glasses, smile radiant like a proud mother.

"You're learning so much!" she cried, pulling him into an awkward hug. "Mummy won't have a clue what to do when you finally leave the nest. I think I might cry."

"Please contain your emotions, Ma'am," Moblit squeaked. "We're at a crime scene. Respect for the dead," he continued when Hanji didn't let go.

"Good luck getting her off with an excuse like that," Auruo snorted, watching the spectacle with sinister glee as he stepped into the apartment. "Anyways, it's nearly ten, Petra. Don't you have a meeting with that Dawk guy today?" he asked.

"Yes. But that isn't until six. I've got time before Gunter and I need to leave," she replied, a little distracted. Something was bothering her about this new case but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Auruo grunted, smirk cracking into a wicked grin when Moblit finally broke free from Hanji's iron maiden like hold. The senior M.E let out a small wail at the loss of contact.

"Erd's busy with the neighbour getting a statement. He heard our vic come home at two this morning, drunk as a teenager on college break. He also said that when he didn't hear Hannes getting ready for work at eight he got suspicious. The guy's a creature of habit apparently," Auruo said. Petra nodded in understanding. "Gunter's busy doing a canvas. Hannes died around seven, so hopefully someone saw something... you alright?" he asked, trailing off when he spotted Petra's anxious expression.

"Huh?" she responded vaguely. Auruo frowned at her, and then suddenly flicked her nose lightly. Petra squawked. "What was that for?" she grouched, peeved.

"You were doing that thing again," Auruo supplied. "You know, when your nose goes funny and you glare at everyone like they stole your coffee."

"I do not do that!"

"Yeah, you kind do, Petra baby," Hanji interjected. Moblit nodded in agreement. Petra's irritation deflated with embarrassment.

"Spill it, Petra. What's on your mind," Auruo demanded.

"It's just this new case," Petra said, rubbing her stinging nose gently. "I mean, we haven't even so much as discovered a single viable suspect for the Dietrich case, and now we have another body with a similar M.O."

"You think they're connected," Auruo said, face pulling into a serious glower. Petra bit her lip, worrying it with her teeth.

"I really hope not," she said. "I really hope not."

An hour later and Petra had, with grudging knowledge and disappointment, dragged out another evidence board and set it up once she and the team had arrived back at the precinct. It sat snugly next to the Dietrich case board, illuminated by the nondescript fluorescent lighting, mostly bare save for some of the crime scene photos and a small timeline. Sat around it were Gunter, Auruo and Erd, all in various stages of frustrated analysis. Gunter was leaning against the far left wall, a deep frown on his face, fingers drumming angrily against his arm. Auruo was sprawled in his chair, kneading his temples and glaring at the evidence boards as if they had started a vendetta against his family. And Erd was seated in his own chair, head cradled in his hands, eyes staring blankly ahead.

They really were the picture of Sina's finest homicide squad.

"This sucks," Erd finally mumbled, head dropping from his hands to his desk with a heavy clunk. "Why does solving crime have to be so hard," he groaned, voice muffled slightly.

"Because people are smart and can't be bothered doing something worthwhile with their brains," Gunter supplied tiredly. There was a collective grunt from everyone within the room.

"I suppose if they did use their brains we'd be out of a job," Auruo added, yawning.

"True," Petra said from her desk. She was busy writing out some reports pertaining to the Dietrich case, and had received not too long ago another stack for the new Hannes case. She rubbed at her eyes wearily. A soft hum caught her attention, vibrations running through her coat and up her body. She dug through her pockets, searching for her phone. She blinked, noticing a new message from Nanaba.

_Hanji said u needed 2 talk. Wen r u free?_

Petra read the text over several times, struggling to process it. Oh! Hanji had mentioned Nanaba was a relationship and all round advice guru. She hurriedly texted back.

_Is wed night good?_

_:) dinner?_

_Yep_

_Meet at 3D Wires at 7 then_

_Awesome! Thank uuuuuuu_

_XD xoxo c u then_

Petra smiled down at the message, spirits lifted just that little bit. She glanced at her team mates, noting the delirious aura that hung over them like an unnatural fog. They were simultaneously focussed to an extreme and yet also feebly day dreaming. She huffed at their tired antics.

"I know it hasn't been that long, but I want to go back to the scene," she said. That snapped them to attention. Erd lifted his head so quickly from his desk that Petra could've sworn she heard his neck crack several times. Auruo was looking at her with impossibly wide eyes that did not suit his face, and Gunter looked positively bemused.

"The guy died only a few hours ago and you want to go back already?" Auruo spluttered. Petra nodded.

"I want to get a feel for the place. I couldn't get one when we were there before. There were too many people," she explained. Erd's shocked face fell into a contemplative frown.

"Are you sure?" he asked. When Petra nodded he let out a conflicted sigh. "There's no reason against doing it. Do you want one of us to come with you?"

"Thanks but no. You guys will just get in the way," she laughed. Auruo scoffed, though he was amused. "I'll give you guys a ring if I find anything."

"You better," Erd said. He shifted away from his desk and then began digging through the personal effects box that they kept on hand. He handed over the key to Hannes' apartment. She took it and then made for the door, snatching up her bag and phone as she went.

"Don't forget, we've got that meeting with Dawk later tonight," Gunter called.

"I know. I'll meet you at his office."

"Don't forget coffee."

"Do I ever?"

* * *

When Petra arrived at the crime scene she found it quiet and deserted. C.S.U had finished sweeping the area for evidence and had placed bright yellow tape across the entrance. She stepped forwards and ran the apartment's key through the tape, cutting through it without much difficulty. She tucked the key into her pocket before she pulled on a set of disposable gloves. She opened the door and stepped inside, flicking a switch on the right side of the door. Light spilled into the room. The apartment was so much larger now without the hustle and bustle of the Forensics crew and the clean up team. It seemed to reek of loneliness; a dank, isolated and dark hovel where a man had died without a struggle. Petra actually felt a little sad for Hannes and his almost depressing existence. She glanced around, taking in the scene, hoping to get a better understanding of what had happened. On the right was the bathroom, door ajar. An old fluorescent light-bulb washed the kitchen with a putrid yellow glow... why was the light on?

Petra instantly went for her gun, a Glock .40 S&W which had served her well in her years as a detective. If someone was in the apartment – in a warded off crime scene – they were going to be very surprised indeed when the barrel was shoved into their face. She held the weapon out comfortably in front of her, both hands steady and strong with the weight and positioning as she scoped out the bathroom. She nudged the door open further with her booted foot. It opened with a loud creak, revealing a surprisingly clean shower and toilet. There was no one inside.

A relieved huff of air escaped Petra's lips as she lowered her gun. One of the processor's must have left the light on when they'd exited the apartment. She stepped forward and flicked the bathroom switch, just as the kitchen light turned off. Petra spun around, her gun raised once again as she was enveloped in blackness. There _was_ someone in the apartment. She gritted her teeth, trying to slow her suddenly spiking heartbeat. It was pitch black in the apartment now. She knew that turning on the light in the bathroom would temporarily blind her and she couldn't risk that. She had to rely on her instincts. She needed to pinpoint the intruder using her hearing. If she concentrated she'd be able to pick up on their breathing. This was a game of cat and mouse, and Petra was the one with the training and the gun. She was no mouse; she was a tired, cranky and simmering ginger cat that was itching to pull the trigger.

The kitchen light snapped to life. She hissed as her eyes were stung by the sudden blaring radiance. She brought a hand to shield her eyes – a rookie mistake. There was a whirl of movement from her right, and then there was someone behind her, shoving her forwards and down violently. Petra felt her head collide with the kitchen counter with a sickening, wet crack. White and black spots bloomed across her vision, a heaving ache rocketing through her skull all the way down to her toes whilst a sharper pain flared across her scalp. Blood trickled down her forehead. She scrambled to the left blindly, legs uncoordinated in her dazed state, her gun clattering to the tiled floor in her confusion. Everything was so dark and then so bright and she couldn't see a _bloody thing_. She tasted salt and copper on her tongue, bile threatening to rise from the back of her throat.

A set of arms suddenly wrapped around her neck and waist. She panicked. She couldn't see straight, her head was pounding as if she had the mother of all hangovers, and she was being pressed painfully into the kitchen counter by an unknown assailant. She felt so horribly exposed. The body against her back was hard and warm, taut with controlled tension, unyielding against her futile attempts to fight back. She didn't like this. She wanted out. She wanted her gun. Hell, she wanted backup! She struggled furiously against the arms around her again, only to have the one around her neck tighten suddenly, choking her.

"Relax, Detective," a voice growled, harsh and burning, against the shell of her ear. They smelt like coffee, hospital chemicals, and something spicy, like cinnamon. It wasn't an unpleasant smell she noted, much to her chagrin, and she snarled. Her cheeks were turning red as she struggled to snap back, for breath, only to have her scathing retort cut off by another squeeze to her throat. "You're going to sleep for a bit, okay," the person said. Petra's eyes widened in horror as the arm around her neck started to press harder. She knew what was happening. They were going to cut off the blood flow from her carotid artery to her brain. She would faint quickly and quietly, and then the intruder would be free to do whatever the hell they wanted to her or the crime scene.

She tried to kick out, all consuming anger and fear pumping through her body. The pressure on her throat increased exponentially, forcing a choked gasp from her lips. The spots in her eyes were starting to get bigger; were starting to merge together, blocking everything from view. Her lungs were burning with the need for air, and her limbs were slowly losing their power, the lack of oxygen staunching her muscles. She tried so hard to suck in a breath, but every time she exhaled the tighter the arm around her neck squeezed, like a python with its prey. Her eyelids began to droop, and Petra struggled to keep them open, terrified of what would happen if she closed them. They slid shut of their own volition with finality akin to a coffin closing. Amidst the dark haze of settling unconsciousness, she could have sworn she heard her attacker whisper a soft apology.

* * *

I'M BACK GUYS! I've been busy with Uni work and final assignments so sorry for the radio silence. I've also been plotting out more chapters for this fic and also for Sleepwalking. Be prepared! (Lion King soundtrack in the background)  
So this chapter was actually going to be the first one to this fic. I wanted to have Petra come back to a crime scene only to have the 'killer' inside possibly doing nefarious things haha. She gets knocked out so the team send her home after they find her. She then meets Levi and the kids in the elevator and things would have continued on from there.  
I KILLED HANNES! I AM AN EVIL AWFUL PERSON! _But the plot_. Also, I gave Hannes that last name Anderson after the children's writer, Hans Christian Anderson, and after Hugo Weaving's line delivery of "Mr Anderson" from the Matrix because FUCK YEAH, MATRIX!  
Back to Uni work. Rational, out!

P.S. I fucking love you guys (kisses everyone in a platonic, nonsexual way**)**

**Written to:  
**_New Skin_ – Incubus  
_Help I'm Alive_ – Metric  
_Night Time In New Orleans_ – Jesper Kyd (Hitman: Blood Money OST)  
_Asleep_ – Emily Browning


	10. Ninjas and Lawyers Are Assholes

**While All The Vultures Feed** – A LevixPetra fanfiction  
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin or any of its characters/themes!  
Please see end for notes :)

* * *

Chapter 10: Ninjas and Lawyers Are Assholes

_Her heart was racing in her chest, thudding angrily against the cage of her ribs as she sped through the trees. It was coming, chasing them, hunting them, with an intense ferocity. Gunter and Erd had already fallen, bodies smashed and severed. There was just her and Auruo to protect the boy now. She zipped through the branches and leaves, her balance faltering for just a small moment. The enemy was breathing down her neck, and she desperately tried to right herself as Auruo screamed for her. She cried out in horror as determined muscle, scorching hot, slammed into her, crushing her against the base of a massive tree. It was surprising how little pain she felt. Her ears were ringing from the impact, lungs filling with blood, organs mashed and bones splintered into tiny matchsticks. She let out a half shuddered rattle of breath, liquid gurgling in her throat and dribbling deep red from her mouth and nose. She exhaled shakily and heard nothing more, eyes half closed to witness the pale yellow light filtering through the tree tops. The last thoughts that flickered into her bloodied mind were for one person, her Captain._

"_I'm sorry I failed, Levi," she whispered._

"_Levi?"_

Hang on.

Petra slowly forced her eyes open, eyelashes clinging to each other like iron chains. Her pupils contracted fiercely as white light erupted into view, splitting pain searing across her scalp. She moaned, trying to drag an arm up to cover her face. All she managed was a pathetic flap of motion, and she gave up quickly, deciding to let her eyes adjust to the harsh lighting. It was a slow process, and she was left temporarily blind for a minute or so. She was aware that there were people around her: the shuffling sounds of fabric, the gentle ripple of air as someone to her left moved, gentle fingers carding through her hair, a soft hum of lowered voices. She was vaguely conscious of the fact that she was lying on something quite soft. It smelt of cheap aftershave and fabric softener – a clean smell. She was also warm, and something was stuck to her forehead. Her brow furrowed in confusion, a jolt of pain startling her as it cracked across the skin of her face. Hovering above her with a stricken expression on her face was Hanji, face swimming in and out of focus.

"What happened?" Petra asked, voice raspy, throat sore.

"You tell me, Pet," Hanji answered. "We got a call on your phone from someone saying that you were unconscious in an apartment." Petra blinked, and finally she was able to see clearly again. She was lying on her back in a single bed, the ceiling of a very familiar yet foreign apartment bearing down on her. It was then that everything came flooding back: her entering Hannes Anderson's apartment and finding the light on, the realisation that she wasn't alone and the following short game of 'catch me if you can'. She remembered being grabbed and slammed into the kitchen counter, and that she'd been choked into unconsciousness.

"Why am I not dead?" she groaned, turning her head slowly, painfully, so she could see Hanji better. The eccentric woman was gazing down at her with worrisome eyes that did not suit her vibrant personality. "If I am dead then it's totally overrated, especially with you here," she added jokingly. A tiny smile tugged at Hanji's tight lips at the quip.

"Good to see Ninja Asshole didn't bludgeon your sense of humour," she replied. Gloved hands came up and then gently started peeling at whatever was stuck to Petra's forehead. "He also did an excellent job of patching you up," she added. "Cleaned the cut and gave you a plaster. Rather kind of him, don't you think?"

"I'll be sure to thank him for the concussion and terror next time we meet," Petra croaked sarcastically, bitterly. "Do you guys know if he tampered with anything?"

"Doesn't look like it," Erd said to her left. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

"Tired and sore... embarrassed. Angry," Petra answered after a moment of hesitation. "He shouldn't have been able to get the jump on me like that," she mumbled. Hanji petted her hair sympathetically.

"Nobody could've foreseen this," Gunter said. "We're just glad you're okay." There was a collected hum of agreement from the others in the room. Petra felt a swell of affection for her team. They really did have her back in any situation. She smiled warmly at them. She shifted on the bed, wriggling backwards so she could try to sit up. Hanji caught on and tenderly helped her up. Petra's world spun and she blinked long and slow, waiting for the rush of blood to clear. Her head throbbed violently. She was going to look a right treat when she went for the meeting with Nile Da-

"The meeting," she gasped suddenly. "Shit! Did you go without me? Did I miss it?" she looked at Gunter pointedly. He shook his head and Petra breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's been rescheduled for ten tomorrow. He didn't seem happy about it though," Gunter said, a hint of distaste entering his voice when he spoke about Dawk. Everyone in the room seemed to share the same sentiment.

"Asshole," Auruo grunted under his breath. "Didn't give a shit that one of our own was possibly dead," his teeth snapped over the last word in anger. "Did you get a look at the bastard?" he demanded. He huffed with frustration when Petra shook her head.

"Everything happened so fast. He used the light to blind me before he slammed me into the counter," she explained unhappily. "All I know for sure is that they were male, worked out, and around five foot five I think. Smelt like coffee and chemicals," she added sourly.

"So we're looking for an average guy who likes coffee and is possibly high on chemical fumes?" Hanji tweeted. Petra snorted, ignoring the twinge of pain that accompanied the action. "Sounds like an interesting fellow, this Ninja Asshole," she mused, voice turning strangely low and cold.

"Don't get any ideas, Hanji," Erd warned, tone hitching a little at the admittedly terrifying expression on the woman's face. And as quickly as it had appeared, the visage flickered away and Hanji was smiling once again.

"Ideas? What on earth are you talking about, blondie?" she sniggered cheekily. Erd seemed even more on edge now. "Well, I suggest we pack Petra baby up and send her home for some rest. It's nearly seven after all."

"Huh?" Petra squawked. It couldn't be that late already. She'd been out for a very long time.

"I agree. Hanji, can you take Petra home? I need to file a report on this and have it added to the case. Gunter and Auruo are heading back for another canvas. Someone must have noticed something," Erd said, lip curling in dissatisfaction. Hanji nodded.

"Do I get a say in this?" Petra asked, slightly irritated that everyone was making decisions for her. Sure she'd just been brained by an unknown person in a crime scene and could've been found dead, but it was a little cut on her head and despite the headache she was sporting, she felt fine. She knew that they were worried about her and doing their jobs, but really, she was a homicide detective. She had training. She was a big girl, not a child.

"Not this time, Petra," Erd said, voice firm. "Hanji is going to take you home, and you are going to stay there and relax and sleep and be a good detect- stop making the pouty face at me," Erd spluttered, noticing the deeply put upon sadness on Petra's face. "I'm serious, Petra. We've all had a bit of a scare, and it would give all of us peace of mind if you just did this for us," he continued. When her face didn't budge, Erd frowned tiredly. "I'll make it an order if I have to," he warned. Petra's face drooped in defeat.

"I get it," she grumbled, throat still rough and scratchy.

"Thanks. You can return to work after tonight."

"Come along, Petra baby," Hanji cooed, scooping an arm beneath Petra's shoulders, hoisting the woman to her feet. She stumbled for a moment, pins and needles tingling across her sleeping legs and feet. She cringed at the feeling, righting herself in Hanji's strong grip. "Let's get you home."

"Lead the way, nurse."

"That's _doctor_, sweet cheeks."

"Yeah. You don't have the bedside manner for a nurse."

"You know me so well."

* * *

The following Tuesday morning saw Petra seated at her desk, filling out an assault report. Erd had done most of it, but Petra's input was needed to finish it before they could file it away into evidence and also put it on the system. C.S.U had been called back to the apartment to process it again – they hadn't been too happy about it – seeing as it was now the scene of an assault. Hannes' apartment was now a crime scene within a crime scene. Brilliant. Her pen scratched out the details in the appropriate sections, head throbbing dully. She had slept well last night, falling into an exhausted slumber devoid of dreams and stray thoughts. She'd barely heard her alarm go off this morning. She glanced up as the door to her unit's office opened. Gunter entered, followed by a strangely gleeful looking Erd.

"You look happy," she said. Erd nodded vigorously. Gripped in his hands was a Styrofoam mug of coffee, the logo reading _Spec Op_ in curling letters. "You got coffee from _Spec Op_ and didn't get _me_ any?" she grouched, nostrils flaring.

"Ah, he's been nursing that since five this morning," Gunter explained quickly, cutting off the start of what would have been a caffeine-deprived-Petra-Ral-rant. "He got a triple shot cappuccino and he hasn't stopped grinning ever since. It's like they spiked it with happiness," he added in an aside whisper.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"That's not why I'm smiling though," Erd practically sang. Petra felt her eye twitch. She expected this sort of behaviour from Hanji, not from her henpecked superior. This new Erd was disturbing, and rapidly making her lose all respect for the man. "Auruo called in and said he found a witness for the new Hannes Anderson case."

"Seriously?" Petra gasped, pen clattering to the table. Erd hummed a yes. He flitted over to the evidence board, pulling a marker and sticky notepad off his desk as he went. He scrawled something down across the yellow paper before he peeled it off and slapped it onto the board between the 7am and 7:30am marks.

"Pastor Nicholas Polanski was sweeping the steps of his cult's parish when he saw a figure in dark clothing rapidly descend the fire escape of our vic's apartment complex," he said.

"Cult?" Petra asked.

"Yep. Those creepy building worshippers," Auruo interjected as he entered the room.

"You mean _architects_?"

"No, I mean creepy building worshippers. Sina is pretty damn old. Some of the buildings are over five hundred years old. They're filled with all this freaky crap from an old religious sect or something. The people living in them are part of this cult that old Pastor Nick is a part of," Auruo explained. "Old fart won't come down to the precinct today because he has things he needs to do, but he's coming down tomorrow for an interview so we can get a full statement."

"Well that's something," Petra said, picking her pen up from the table. "We finally have something new that we can look into."

"True. And hopefully that interview with Dawk will give us more information on Dietrich. We might find out who was blackmailing him and why," Gunter added. "Speaking of which, we should get going to that meeting," he said after glancing at his watch. Petra rose from her seat, stuffing the paperwork she'd been working on onto a section of desk that was not covered in coffee stains and half finished filing. She grimaced as she looked down at the mess. She was going to have to do something about that soon.

* * *

Nile Dawk's executive office suite was an expanse of expensive Italian marble floors polished so precisely that they acted as a mirror. A large mahogany desk sat in the centre of the room, and floor to ceiling windows gazed longingly out over Sina's largest and greenest parklands. MP Industries was not just a company that specialised in security and contracted bodyguards. They were a supplier of some of the greatest lawyers Sina had to offer. They also happened to be ludicrously costly. Petra glanced warily around the office. She was seated on a fine leather couch, Gunter next to her, his arms folded neatly over his knees. A young woman with judgemental eyes and a sneering face had offered them both refreshments when they had entered, explaining that Dawk would be with them shortly; he was currently busy in a meeting with a very important client.

Petra rolled her eyes. She hadn't even met Dawk yet and she already hated him. The ridiculous displays of wealth, and the snide barbs at how little the man seemed to care that he was wasting Petra's and Gunter's time had really gotten under her skin. She imagined him to be a balding lard of a man, comfortable that his wealth and social standing would keep him free from Petra's ire. Boy was he going to be wrong. He'd left the two detectives waiting in the office for nearly half an hour now, and Petra was vastly losing patience. The broken skin from her cut forehead hissed with pain underneath that plaster she wore, feeding her simmering anger. There was a soft click as the door to the office opened.

"Sorry for making you wait so long," Dawk said briskly as he entered the room. He was a slim man in his mid forties, with a bristly goatee and whiskery moustache. A mop of dark hair adorned his serious face. He would have been considered handsome if not for the sanctimonious aura he seemed to exude like a pungent sludge. Petra sneered at him in response, uncaring if he saw or not.

"It's not like we have a murderer on the loose or anything," she replied with cold sarcasm, eyes burning. Gunter made a warning noise in the back of his throat, but she chose to ignore him. Dawk had seriously pissed her off and she was going to let him know that whether he liked it or not. Dawk regarded her with pale, calculating eyes. They lingered on the bandaged wound on her head.

"Indeed," he finally replied, taking a seat at his desk. "You must be Detective Ral and Detective Shultz. I understand that you came here in regards to Ian Dietrich. Well, I can tell you that the sneaky son of a bitch was stealing private information from this company."

"You're sure of this?" Gunter asked. Dawk nodded.

"Positive. A number of files pertaining to some of our high end clients have vanished from our databases and also our hardcopy filing room. We would not have noticed this if not for the fact that I keep copies of all the cases that the company handles on a separate hard drive. I am unsure just what Dietrich wanted with the files, to be perfectly honest," he explained.

"We're going to need those case reports," Petra said. Dawk smiled at her spitefully.

"Client confidentiality is something MP Industries prides itself on, Detective Ral. I'm afraid that you will need a warrant before you can look at these files."

"You're kidding," Petra snapped out. "A member of your workforce was stealing information and you're asking for a goddamn warrant? I would have thought you would be cooperative so you could find out _why_ this was happening. A man is dead, for Christ's sake."

"A man who is no longer a security threat to this company," Dawk countered, mouth pulling into a dark line. "You may see yourselves out," he added. Petra stood up suddenly and marched furiously towards the office doors, breathing hard.

"Thank you for your time, Mr Dawk," Gunter said, following Petra. They were halfway out of the office when Dawk's charmingly sarcastic timbre reached their ears.

"For future reference, it pays to be polite, Detective Ral," he said to their retreating backs.

"It also pays to be punctual, Dawk," she retorted with equal frostiness. She slammed the office door loudly for good measure, hoping that one of the expensive vases or paintings toppled over, just to spite him.

* * *

**WALL CULTISTSSSSSSSSS! Pastor Nick needed a last name so I just typed in something random and Polanski popped up. It suits him.  
****The architects jab is aimed at my lovely friend, Patricia, who is in an Arts and Architecture major. She's also a building nutcase. So much so that it's kinda creepy. LOVE YOU PATTY!  
****Nile Dawk is a scruffy asshole and I love him for it. Also the animosity that Petra feels towards Nile is a reflection on the crappiness that the Military Police and the Scouting Legion have for each other, if it wasn't clear. OOOOOOOH RIVALRY PLEASE!  
****Ian, what did you get yourself into? What are these super serious secrets that you have been stealing and hiding? Find out in the next chapter... possibly... probably not.**

**Written to:  
**_The Science Of Fear_ – The Temper Trap  
_The River_ – Imagine Dragons  
_Déjà Vu_ – Something For Kate  
_New York_ – Eskimo Joe


	11. This Is A Set Up

**While All The Vultures Feed** – A LevixPetra fanfiction  
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin or any of its characters/themes!  
Please see end for notes :)

* * *

Chapter 11: This Is A Set Up

After the disastrous interview with Nile Dawk – Petra refused to admit that she was in the wrong when the man had been such an insufferable prick – the team had picked away at what little evidence they had, trying to scrounge up something they could use to get a warrant for the files. Erd had sent them home at ten and stated that he wanted everyone back at the precinct at seven sharp; his jovial mood vanquished. Petra, still adamant that she had made the correct choice to grill Dawk, had left in a huff, temper scratching beneath the surface. She was a little angry at herself for putting the team in a situation like this, but she wasn't going to apologise for doing something she felt was right. Thankfully the others didn't begrudge her for it... not too much anyway.

Wednesday morning had rolled round, and Petra had arrived at seven on the dot, coffee in hand. She had entered the office, slightly peeved that Auruo, Erd and Gunter were nowhere in sight. She spent the next hour and half filling out paperwork, glancing furiously at the clock. She contemplated sending them a text but then thought better of it. This was probably a punishment from Erd for running her mouth yesterday with Dawk. She sighed, watching the clock tick pass the 9:30am mark. Where the hell were they? Her internal question was suddenly answered when Gunter strolled into the unit office. In one hand was a freshly brewed mug of coffee – Petra's nose _knew_ fresh coffee – and in the other was a manila folder. Erd followed soon after, munching on a slightly squashed chocolate donut. Auruo was nowhere in sight.

"A bit early for donuts, don't you think?" Petra began, shuffling agitatedly through the paperwork on her desk. Erd looked from his donut and then to Petra. He seemed to mull things over for a moment before he stuck out his hand, offering the remainder of his food to her like a child wishing to share with its parents. Petra shook her head, a bright, silly smile lighting her face. "Where's Auruo?"

"Picking up Pastor Nick for the interview," Gunter replied. "Why he volunteered for that job when he obviously hates those cultists I will never know."

"He probably wants to get a better gage on the guy," Erd said through a mouthful of donut.

"What took you guys so long?"

"We've been trying to come up with something that we can use to make that warrant stick," Gunter explained. A miserable look crossed his face. "We've got nothing so far. All we know is that Dietrich was stealing information for someone. But without the evidence to back it up we'll never be able to get the warrant. And the evidence we need is in Dawk's hands, and he won't give it to us."

"_It's a bloody paradox!"_ Erd nearly screeched, a mildly crazed look entering his eyes. The three of them let out a collective groan. It was then that Petra's phone decided the jitter across her desk like popping corn. She snatched at it before it could topple over the edge.

"Yes?"

"_Death sends her greetings, mortal, and wishes to speak with you within the darkness of her underworld."_

"I thought Death was usually depicted as a male?"

"You're ruining the atmosphere, Petra baby. Besides, the only male Death I acknowledge is Terry Pratchett's. That man is a master of scientific hilarity," Hanji waxed, a happy sigh entering her voice. "Anyway, meet you in my crib."

"Of death?"

"Is there any other?"

* * *

Minutes later and Petra had bravely descended into the underworld, armed with coffee to appease the terrifying visage of Death herself. Death, glasses askew on her Cleopatra nose, was spinning happily on an office chair, sliding across the morgue floor which, strangely enough, smelt like whiskey. Lady Gaga was playing loudly from an iPod docking system in the far corner. Hanji paused mid spin as Petra entered, holding the coffee out in front of her as if she was warding a vampire off with garlic.

"You brought an offering, mortal? How very kind of you," Hanji boomed in a deep baritone. She pushed forwards on her chair, skidding across the morgue and narrowly missing one of the examination tables which housed a body, and flicked the music off. She then proceeded over to Petra and plucked the coffee from the other woman's small hands. "Ah, and it's the rocket fuel stuff," she sighed happily after taking a swig.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of being summoned, oh Great Knower of Death and Decay?"

"Oooh, I like that. I should put that up on the doors," Hanji chortled. "Well, the Great Knower of Death and Decay has finished the autopsy on Mr Drunk Skunk over there," she jerked her thump over at what had to be Hannes Anderson's body, covered by a white medical sheet.

"What'd you find?"

"Broken neck was the cause of death, in C3 and C4 vertebrae. Another stupidly beautiful break, by the way. He died between 6:50am and 7:00am, and I'm positive he consumed a liquor store before he snuffed it. His blood alcohol reading was off the charts. It's amazing that he was able to make it back home, let alone be conscious."

"Is that why it smells like booze down here?"

"Yep."

"Bloody oath."

"Mhm. Also, I found fibres in his mouth as well. They weren't deep, so I'm guessing he was either asleep or unconscious when he was gagged. They're also a match to the fibres we found in Dietrich's mouth." Hanji suddenly turned serious, cheerful attitude vanishing and replaced by a grim visage usually associated with undertakers. "Petra, whoever killed Ian Dietrich also killed Hannes Anderson. And they're not the only ones. I did some digging, and the evidence matches up with another 34 unsolved cases over the last twenty years. It's the same M.O, same fibres," she explained. "We've got a serial on our hands by the looks of it."

"Shit," Petra said.

"That's one word for it," Hanji said, reaching out to squeeze Petra's hand affectionately.

"34 cold cases," she breathed. "And you're sure of this?"

"Moblit was the one who put it all together. The boy does more case reading than I do, and that's unheard of."

"He _is_ very meticulous," Petra agreed. She leant heavily against one of the unoccupied examination tables, suddenly weighed down by the news. She couldn't believe they were dealing with a serial killer. And one that had been killing for over 20 years. It seemed so strange. She'd never dealt with a serial case before, and she wasn't sure if any of the others had as well. She just couldn't believe that the department hadn't flagged the M.O in any of their databases – home invasion, entered via window, snapped neck, fibres in mouth, no witnesses. It was very precise. Almost too precise.

"It's not a serial, Hanji," she said. Hanji blinked.

"If this isn't a serial then I don't know what to think."

"These are hits," Petra said. "We're dealing with a contract killer."

* * *

Pastor Nick was a balding man in his mid fifties who seemed to have a permanent sheen of sweat across his pallid brow. He was dressed in long black robes trimmed with red and purple brocade, a stiff white collar peeking about his neck. A strange walled crest with a bleeding head full of teeth was emblazoned across his left breast. He sat nervously in the steel chair of the interrogation room, hands clasped tightly in front of him, eyes darting spastically about. He refused to look at Auruo and Gunter. The former had decided to lean against the wall closest to the door, a horrific glare on his face, whilst the latter sat on the other side of the cultist, gently shuffling files in his hands. Hidden from view in another room, watching through the one way mirror, were Petra and Erd.

"You're aware of why you are here, Mr Polanski?" Gunter began. The man bristled at the title.

"That's Pastor Nicholas to you, boy," he snapped primly. Auruo growled low in his throat, an attack dog at the ready. "And yes, I am aware of why I am here."

"Get talking then," Auruo ordered. There was a long, pregnant pause then. Pastor Nick fidgeted in his seat, twiddling his thumbs. He seemed to be perspiring even more. "Well get on with it!"

"I'm afraid I can't help you," the man suddenly said. Petra could practically see the veins popping in Auruo's neck.

"I'm sorry, sir, but could you please clarify that," Gunter interjected quickly before Auruo blew up.

"I said I can't help you. I must have imagined what I saw. I would like to leave now," Pastor Nick repeated, edging in his seat. Petra, Erd, Gunter and Pastor Nick all jumped a mile when Auruo suddenly lunged forward; his face only inches away from the older man's face.

"Start talking, geezer," he sneered, "or I'll slap you with an obstruction of justice court order and send your sorry ass and your freaky cult friends into the nearest slammer!"

"You can't possi-"

"You just watch me! Or I'll cart you down to our lovely medical examiner and let her feed you to her _babies_, which happen to be a freaking tarantula and a giant bloody centipede. That, or she'll use you for an example for her little protégé. It's so hard to find people willing to give up their bodies in the name of science," Auruo continued. Petra shivered at the imagery. She was quite glad she wasn't on the receiving end of Aururo's wrath. Pastor Nick made a funny noise in the back of his throat, eyes flitting to the door, and then to Gunter. The other man simply sat there, an equally stunned expression on his face.

"I saw someone climb down the fire escape at seven in the morning on Monday!" he squeaked shrilly. "I didn't get a good look at him though," he added quickly.

"Could you pick him out of a line up?" Gunter asked. Nick shook his head, wiping his brow.

"He was too quick and too far away. Can I go now?" he asked. Auruo snarled and wrenched the door open.

"Get outta here, freak!" The cultist bid a hasty exit, showing surprising speed for an older man in long robes. "Well, at least he verified the time span."

"Fat lot of good that does us," Gunter sighed. Erd and Petra shared the same sentiment.

* * *

_3D Gears_ was a dark and gritty pub that lay on the very edge of Shinganshina and Trost. It was nestled between a shabby apartment complex and the entrance to the Sina underground railway. It was a patchy brickwork building with dark green circular windows and heavy iron doors. A small hanging sign by the entrance was the only indication that the pub existed, whilst a dusty chalkboard advertised the daily specials. They apparently made the best beer available in Sina. Petra agreed whole heartedly with the sign. This pub was a personal favourite. The owner was on good terms with the force and gave a two dollar discount for any cops that happened to stop in. They also were rather good informants, but that was on a strictly need to know basis. It was nearly seven, and Petra had a date with Miss Relationship Guru.

She ducked inside the pub, and was immediately assaulted by the warm, tangy smell of beer and sizzling steak. The lighting was dim and cultured, the walls lined with wood panelling and black and white photos of Sina in her early days. A duke box was playing a track from the fifties quietly in the background, whilst the clinks of glasses and the hard murmurs of the patrons filled the air. She waved at the owner, Keith Shadis – a retired veteran of the army and the force – before she headed towards the booths, searching for Nanaba. As she scanned the seats for a shock of pale blonde hair, she spotted someone she had not been expecting, hunched over and sketching lazily on a sketchpad. There was no mistaking the ruffled black hair and the multitude of tattoos.

"Levi?" she blurted out before she could stop herself. Levi jerked, head whipping up, pencil clenched dangerously between his fingers, as if he might throw it like a weapon. His startled, wary expression slipped into confusion when he spotted Petra.

"Petra? What are you... oh _fuck_ _me_," Levi started and then exhaled loudly through his nose, covering his eyes with his free hand. A tiny, irritated smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "We got fucking played, Ral." Petra paused, and then finally got it. A mortified look bloomed across her face, and she slapped her hands to her cheeks, mouth dropping open in realisation.

"Those _bitches_," she choked. She slumped into the vacant booth seat in shock. The two of them sat there for a moment, mulling over the events that had lead them here. A confused flush spread up Petra's neck when Levi looked up at her through hooded eyes.

"You want a drink?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded slowly, still processing everything. "I think I'm going to need it."

* * *

**Hanji and Nanaba are the greatest friends ever, Petra! Don't deny it. They are fabulous, meddlesome girls and you love them for it!  
****What's this, Rational? Serial Killers? Contract Killers? 3 Chapters in Nearly 4 Days! DO YOU SLEEP?! Answer: no.  
****This'll be the last one for the next week or so. I spoiled you guys a bit too much, but it's because I love all of you dearly. And look, I left it on the start of a surprise date.**

**Written to:  
**_Hallelujah_ – Thao & Mirah  
_Two Kinds Of Right_ – The Grates  
_Everything Will Float Just Out Of Range_ – Low Action  
_Glorious_ – Muse


	12. Revenge Is Sweet

**While All The Vultures Feed** – A LevixPetra fanfiction  
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin or any of its characters/themes!  
Please see end for notes :)

* * *

Chapter 12: Revenge Is Sweet and Smells Like Pale Ale

Petra was going to shoot Hanji and Nanaba both in the foot when she saw them next. She couldn't believe they'd set her up... actually she could believe it, now that she thought about it. She supposed she had made it a little too easy for them as well. She _had_ discussed her worries with Hanji. Petra had been so caught up in her strange dreams and her cases that she had forgotten one very important thing when it came to her friendship with the brunette: never tell Hanji anything that was mildly personal, because she would find a way to 'help'. Hanji's meddling fingers had sunk in the moment she'd seen Petra interact with Levi at _The Legion_, and she'd decided to let Nanaba have a taste of the sweet splendour that came with intruding in another person's life. And Nanaba – sweet, lovely and innocent Nanaba – had happily jumped into it. The two women had spun a brilliant plan from within the constantly ticking jungle of Hanji's mind, and Petra had walked right into it. The question now was how to get back at them. She was startled out of her plotting when a schooner of pale ale was planted in front of her. She looked at Levi questioningly, noticing that he'd ordered the same.

"You got me a beer?"

"Call it a hunch, but you don't look like the _Strawberry Daiquiri_ sort," Levi explained sarcastically as he sat down. Petra scoffed good naturedly in response, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being proven right. She was very much a beer and spirits girl. She took a sip, enjoying the cool, tangy flavour.

"So, how's life been treating you?" she began. Levi looked at her blankly over the lip of his beer.

"20 questions? Really?" he replied. Petra huffed.

"I'm assuming you're in the same boat as I am when it comes to a nonexistent social life?" Levi nodded after a moment, waiting to see where Petra was headed. "From a dating perspective, we're kind of considered washed up, _boring_ and _unexciting_ people. I figured 20 questions would be up the 'lame' aisle, as entrenched in it as we are."

"_Right_. Well, the brats are good and work is okay. I've got nothing to really bitch about. And you?" he asked, eyes flicking to the still healing cut on Petra's forehead. She shrugged, reaching up to self-consciously tug a lock of her hair over the blemish, hiding it from view.

"It hasn't been too bad. The usual, really. Well, the usual for a homicide detective anyway."

"More bodies?"

"More bodies."

"Hanji's having a fucking field day."

"You have no _idea_." There was a quiet pause before they both snorted with laughter.

"Christ, I can't believe they set us up," Levi said. "Do me a favour and shoot Hanji for me when you see her next."

"Any spot in particular?"

"The tit, because she's acting like one."

"Done." A shrill buzzing noise breached the quiet murmuring of the pub suddenly. Petra glanced around, wondering where it was coming from, when Levi pulled his mobile from his pocket. He glanced at the caller I.D. and clicked his tongue, annoyed. He hit the decline button and then placed his phone on the table. Petra felt a small smile form on her lips. The fact that Levi was actively ignoring calls and messages was a good sign that he was at least interested as to what and where this entire arrangement was going. She took another sip of beer, amused when Levi's mobile began jittering across the wooden booth table.

"You going to answer that?" she asked, lightly teasing. Levi looked down at his phone, eyes suddenly very hard and cold.

"It's rude to answer your phone when you're talking to someone," he replied flatly. The phone stopped, and Levi's expression relaxed slightly. And then it started buzzing _again_. Petra swore that Levi's eyes could have melted glass with the look that crossed his face. "Sorry," he said before he snatched up his phone. "Fuck off. I'm busy," he snapped curtly before hanging up. He shoved his phone into his jacket pocket then, glowering still.

"Meddlesome friend?"

"Meddlesome boss."

"You just told your _boss_ to fuck off?"

"Yes."

"Are you insane?!"

"That fact that _Hanji_ is my closest friend should be answer enough."

"Touché," Petra snickered, taking another pull of her beer. "So, how did you and Hanji meet?" She nearly laughed when a distressed expression swam over Levi's face. "That horrifying?"

"It's Hanji. Would you expect any less?" he replied. He took a massive swig of his drink, as if the mere thought of what had happened was something he could only discuss whilst drunk. Petra waited patiently, and smiled when Levi set his glass down, a tormented look in his eyes. "I met her when she was teaching at med school. We crashed into each other when she was transporting body parts to the lab she was working in. It... wasn't pretty," he explained. Petra felt her entire face freeze up in disgusted horror. "Easily the most fucked up first impression I've ever had. She came into the shop a few days later asking for some ink, and we kind of bonded. She also promised an extra tip for the whole 'intestines in the face' thing. That was about seven years ago."

"Wow, and I thought my first meeting with her was weird and mentally scaring," Petra muttered. "I walked into the morgue on my first homicide case and found her getting changed in a room full of dead bodies," she said after spotting Levi's interested look. He coughed, hiding a derisive snort.

"That does not surprise me in the least. How long you been in the force?"

"Nearly six years now. I've only been part of homicide for three though. Still considered the rookie," she grumbled the last part.

"Heh. You won't live it down till they bring in fresh meat."

"Don't remind me," she sighed. "What about you? You have to apprentice with someone, right?"

"More or less. Mine happened before I moved to Sina. The guy who was teaching me knew what he was doing but was a real ass about it. Used to skive off my pay to fund his drug habit. He also hated my portfolio work. Why he kept me on still confuses me."

"What didn't he like about your art?"

"I only draw things that interest me, Petra," he said. "I guess someone as jaded as he was couldn't get his head around it."

"Will you show me?"

"Huh?"

"Show me your art. Show me what interests you. I want to see it," Petra said excitedly, leaning forward. Levi blinked, a little taken aback by her eagerness. He stared at her, trying to gage the sincerity of her request. Pretty amber green eyes, wide with curiosity, were fixed on the sketchbook lying mere centimetres from his fingertips.

"So strange," he mumbled, a smile flickering into being as he reached for the book. He flipped it open to a random page and set it in front of her. Petra just about it snatched it in her excitement. It was covered in a variety of pencil and pen sketches – silvery black lines blending in with red and blue, like an intricate pattern of coloured lace and spider webs. She recognised the lattice work on the fencing from the fire escape on her apartment building, a half finished sketch of Mikasa and Eren asleep on a sofa, a mandala, a bird's eye view of Sina city, and a painfully detailed portrait of a middle aged woman wearing a high necked, long sleeved lace dress. Her sharp eyes held a soft yet detached emotion in them.

"These are amazing," she said, fingers creeping softly across the drawings. She particularly liked the one of Eren and Mikasa. They were bundled up in blankets, arms curled loosely around each other. Levi took a rather long drag of his beer, choosing to say nothing. Petra turned the page, finding this one to be littered with scarily realistic bones, muscles and tendons. In the far corner of the page was a small thumbnail of a woman's back. There was a hazardously doodled spine running up the sketch. It looked like the bones had suddenly burst from the woman's flesh.

"Quick sketch for Hanji. She wants her spine done next," Levi explained. Petra nodded, eyes still fixed on the drawings as she took a sip of her drink.

"I just... wow! I can't believe you're going to put that on someone's skin. These are incredible. You're incredible."

"Not really. Most people would say that what you do is incredible, Petra," Levi replied. Petra flushed a little at the praise, hoping that the redness would be attributed to the alcohol. She took another swig of her drink in an attempt to keep a silly smile off her face. She glanced down at the drawings again, spotting a twisting line of stylised flowers, something she knew was called Art Nouveau

"I keep telling myself that I should get something done," she said. "I was thinking something small, like a rose or a daisy."

"Roses are overused and such a bore to ink," Levi said automatically. "So are cherry blossoms and lotus flowers. Always make sure your first ink is something that matters to you, otherwise you'll end up regretting it."

"What was your first?" she asked. Levi actually froze up, his entire body tensing as if he was bracing himself for an attack. Petra's brows rose, pondering the strange reaction. "You don't have to tell me if-"

"I got these done when I was sixteen," he said quickly, holding up his curled fists. Printed across his knuckles in gothic letters where the words 'stay sane'. They were a little faded now, blurred around the edges, but still held their elegance.

"Stay sane?"

"Long story."

"I see- wait! You got these when you were sixteen? How'd you manage that?"

"I lied."

"_Obviously_."

"My parents were in the trade. I met up with one of their artists and he did them for me as a birthday gift."

"A painful gift?"

"If you see it that way, then yes. It was painful, but worth it."

"Any particular reason for those words?" Petra asked, eyes narrowing slightly with probing scrutiny. Levi merely smirked. "You're not going to tell me, are you," she pouted. "Spoil sport," she added. Levi snorted, fingers flexing back around his beer.

"Eh, maybe after a few more of these."

"We shall see."

* * *

After several more drinks, Petra had noticeably loosened up, and, to her amusement, so had Levi. They were now walking down Avenue Maria, coffees in hand, free fingers hidden in their coat sleeves and jeans pockets. A biting chill grasped their necks, and Petra pulled the collar of her plum coat higher about her freezing skin. She really should have brought a scarf like Levi. Come to think of it, she didn't think she'd ever seen him without it. He hadn't even taken it off inside _3D Gears_. Perhaps it was a gift from someone special to him, or something he'd simply grown attached to. He was far more sentimental than first appeared, she mused. She filed her observations away, choosing to focus in on what her 'date' was _almost_ animatedly talking about.

"... anyway, I've just started the ink and then this guy just sort of spasms and goes still. I freaked because he's jolted my hand and fucked up my lines, and the boss was going to be so pissed. And then I noticed the guy wasn't breathing. Turns out he had a heart attack and snuffed it."

"Seriously?!"

"Yeah. That was weird, explaining it to the cops and everything. I got out of a botched job because the client fucking _died_."

"I remember I was in the morgue once and one of the bodies that Hanji was about to cut open suddenly screamed and _ran out the precinct_, _completely naked_. Erd was convinced it was the first recorded zombie case in history," Petra said. Levi nearly choked on his coffee, desperately trying to keep his laughter in check. "It didn't help that Hanji and the guys from Narcotics totally played along. Erd stayed locked in the Unit offices until we caught the guy three days later."

"Gullible much."

"Yep. He got back at us afterwards by hiding our finished reports all over the precinct. I found one stuffed inside the gym's punching bag, and Gunter said his was stashed inside the rec room fridge. We never found Auruo's, so he had to rewrite his entirely."

"What a crafty shit. Speaking of which, how do you propose we get back at shitty-glasses for this set up?" Levi said. "I don't know about you, but I'm not content to let her sit pretty thinking she got away with it." Petra frowned, ideas mulling in her head like viscous gloop. Getting back at Hanji would be sweet, like the soft tang of pale ale that had yet to leave her taste buds.

"We could keep quiet about it. Not say anything about what happened," she suggested.

"That... fuck, that is _brilliant_," Levi said. There was a wickedly amused gleam in his eyes. "It'd drive her insane." Petra beamed at the mental image. It was the perfect way to get back at Hanji and Nanaba. Skiving off the details would make both women rip their hair out in frustration. And no amount of probing would make Petra give up the details. She was still grinning about it when they rounded the block that held their respective apartments. Levi had been interested in what Petra actually did as a Homicide Detective, and Petra had been happy to oblige, though she never spoke about the case details. Their conversation continued into the elevator and out into the corridor, until Petra arrived at her apartment door.

"I had fun tonight," she said, smiling brightly. The smile slid from her face when Levi quite suddenly leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to the side of her face, just below her eye. Petra's face turned seven shades of red, her ears burning, and eyes wide. She had _not_ been expecting that. Levi seemed to sense her unease, because he stepped back.

"Was I too forward?" he asked.

"Uh, no. Sorry. You just surprised me, is all," she spluttered for a moment. She mentally slapped herself.

"If I haven't put you off, I'd like to do this again sometime," he said, glancing away for a moment. Petra could have sworn she saw a tinge of pink seep into his pale skin. It may have been the cold weather though.

"Yes. I'd like that too," she scrambled.

"So, is lunch on Friday good?"

"It should be. I'll clear my schedule."

"Right. Night, Petra."

"Goodnight, Levi." She turned then, fumbling a moment with her keys, watching from the corner of her eye as Levi made for his own apartment. She got her door open and quickly slipped inside, sparing him one last glance. She closed the door, a ridiculous smile lighting her face. A happy little squeak bubbled up from her lips, and she sashayed giddily into her kitchen, giggling quietly like a school girl. It had been her first date in over a year and it had been so good. She'd completely forgotten what it was like to go out and meet people. And the best part of the night, including that little kiss, was that Levi had been his crass, charming self, and Petra had not once felt uncomfortable in his presence. And he'd been open to another date. She couldn't forget that.

She glanced at her watch, noting with some surprise that it was just past twelve. She'd been out later than she realised. She wondered if she'd be able to sleep with the euphoria running through her veins. She'd have to try. Twenty minutes later and Petra was tucked in her bed, eyes closed, body slowly unwinding, dreams of bones and lace and two sleepy children beginning to take shape.

* * *

**FACE KISSSES! YOU SEE WHAT I DID FOR YOU, ANA?**

HOW DO YOU WRITE FIRST DATES?! I HAVE NEVER BEEN ON A DATE SO I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE RULES ARE. ARE THERE RULES? IS THERE SOME SORT OF DATING CREED THAT I DON'T KNOW ABOUT? JUST ASGDGHJKL! *gives up*

Levi is adorably awkward and I love him for it. Goddamnit! He's just no good with social stuff. Petra is allowed to have little girly freakouts because she can. They're both just awkward idiots.

This chapter was really painful to write. I couldn't get it to work. I rewrote it five times. It pissed me off that much. I couldn't make things fit where they were meant to go and just ugh! It's done now, and you guys will hopefully like it, so that's all that matters.

Anyway, I've been thinking that I would like to keep this AU alive after I finish this story, so I thought that I would write some drabbles and mini-fics for it afterwards. MikexNanaba goodness, kiddie shenanigans, sass-master!Hanji, and hilarious jaunts with the rest of the crew. Let me know what you guys think :) Yes, there will be more Rivetra goodness too XD  
This will _only_ occur after I start working on _Sleepwalking_ again.

**Written to:  
**_Love Your Way_ – Powderfinger  
_Your Body Is A Weapon_ – The Wombats  
_Heart Go Faster_ – The Davey Brothers  
_Sweet Nothing_ – Something For Kate (Triple J: Like A Version 9)


End file.
